Shared Goals

My pastor is fond of saying, "We all want to get to the same place; we just disagree about how to get there." Usually he's talking about denominational divides when he says that, but I think it applies to the election too. It used to go without saying, but I've seen lots of venom in the public square lately, so I'm going to say it: We all want the same things. A better life for our kids — to be safe and free — to ensure that the under-represented, underprivileged, and under-resourced among us enjoy justice, protection and care. The same bright future is envisioned on both sides of the aisle. But this morning half of us woke up feeling that future is more possible than ever before and half of us woke up feeling that our hopes for such a future have been dashed. Let's be good winners and losers. But more importantly, let's realize we'll all lose if we can't find a way to talk about "how to get there" without name-calling and mistrust.

Fighting Election

Every so often, we get everyone together for a big fight. It's so strange. I don't really think we care so much about what we're fighting over (with one or two obvious exceptions). We just seem to like the fight. I'm talking about presidential elections, of course.

This dynamic is so bizarre to me. I know people who are perfectly well-adjusted, level-headed, rational beings who suddenly turn to ogres come election time. I know these people on both sides of the aisle.

It's like Thanksgiving. Every so often, we get all our parties together and try to figure things out and someone gets drunk and we all leave mad and we add to our family lore about the one time Uncle Larry tried to carve the turkey and ruined everything.

I wonder why we do this. There are probably dozens of reasons I don't understand but a few come to mind.

Control
Voting — or more accurately, winning the vote — gives us a sense of control. It feels like we're making a better future if our ideas are the ones that win. We have more confidence in our countrymen if we feel that the majority of them agree with us. If, on the other hand, most of them don't share our views, we complain about "what America is coming to" or wish that someone would "get those other people out of the dark ages." No one ever watches their candidate lose and then says, "Hmm. Most of my compatriots disagree with my position. I wonder if their ideas are actually better. I wonder what I can learn from them." I think there's a level of humility missing from our national discourse. And there's a longing for control. Every man-made religion on earth peddles control. It's a powerful motivator.

Winning
We've also all got a little bit of Charlie Sheen in us. We like winning. Our culture is obsessed with it. We've turned sport into a multi-billion dollar alternative reality where the ultimate virtue is winning. And we turn our non-competitive endeavors — academia, ministry, the arts — into competitions with awards and scorecards.

Politics gives us clear winners and losers. If you get more votes, you win. It's simple and easy to measure. It takes less work and less discernment than fighting our ideological battles where they matter — in our relationships.

False Enemies
That relates to my final idea. I think we work ourselves into a political fervor every four years because it's easier to battle enemies we can see. Every Christian gives ascent to the idea that our enemy isn't flesh and blood. Our enemy doesn't have a political party. But we tend to think of people on the other side of the aisle as pawns of the enemy. It's easier to fight those enemies. We can see them, vote against them, visit their websites, spread rumors about them, blame them, and demonize them. They're easy to hate.

But ultimately, they are a distraction. Our enemy is unseen as is our Hero.

I'm not saying politics isn't important. I voted in this election, and I treasure that right. It's one of the reasons I believe in our country. And I'm not saying we should abandon our convictions. I have some pretty strongly-held positions on issues of the day, especially justice issues like abortion. But I think we Christians tend to forget that the real battle isn't won or lost in the voting booth. The real battle happens on a grassroots level — deeper than that, it happens in hearts.

After all, that's the beauty of representative government. Our politicians aren't leaders; they are followers. That's true not just because of their character (I don't see a lot of conviction in most politicians) but because of their profession. Following is how politicians get elected. Trust me: if 90 percent of Americans deeply believed that abortion should be illegal, President Obama would be a staunch pro-lifer. He's a follower. They are all followers. It's up to us to lead them.

If you want to win an election, win hearts. Love people well. Pray against your enemy. Start with your neighbors and coworkers — not to bring their votes to your party, but bring their souls to restoration. And maybe in the trenches of the real battle, the allure of an election night victory party will become secondary.

Beer Money

Part of what makes church work and government not work is sheer size. One key to a successful community of any kind is interdependence. Let me explain.

Imagine you've dropped in on guy's night with the men from my small group. There are five of us — six counting you. We're at Buffalo Wild Wings (yes, you can talk about Jesus at a sports bar), and we all decide to chip in to buy a pitcher of beer (yes, you can talk about Jesus while drinking beer). Now imagine one of the guys can't contribute. He forgot his wallet or his budget is tight this month. What would we do? We would cover him, of course. We would buy his beer. And what would he do? He would thank us. He likely wouldn't forget his wallet again soon. And if he continued to do so, the rest of us might just tell him that we're getting tired of paying his way. Or if he was genuinely disadvantaged, we would happily continue to pay for him or possibly stop having guys night at some place where he's expected to buy stuff.

Around that table at Buffalo Wild Wings, there would be generosity, gratitude and accountability.

You can be interdependent with six guys, but the larger the group gets, the harder it becomes. If our group turns into 30 guys, some of the group won't even know who didn't pay. If our group is 300, we'll have to start a spreadsheet. At 3,000, we're not really even part of the same party; we're dividing up into lots of little groups within the big group. In a group of 3,000, you have to be very intentional about accountability, generosity and gratitude. It's easy to lose sight of who you should be grateful to, and who your generosity is helping.

Now imagine if our little guys group swells to 300 million people. Now when everyone pitches in, it's not generosity; it's taxation. And when someone gets a free ride, there isn't gratitude; there is shame and entitlement. And when someone misappropriates the beer money to spend it on favors for a friend, it goes unnoticed.

Now before you get mad and start waving election banners, let me point out that this is not a political stance. The same dynamic happens regardless of how conservative or liberal are the guys around the table. It's just human nature. There is a universal inverse relationship between the level of interdependence in a group and the number of its members.

Interdependence, and therefore authentic community, is only possible in small groups.

Pass the beer nuts.