Stock Photo Illustration (Credit: Emmanuel Phaeton/ Unsplash/ https://tinyurl.com/mr3svp22)
This article was originally written for and published to Good Faith Media on November 5, 2024.
You could never accuse me of having a particularly gloomy disposition. As the results from a personality test once noted, I refuse to worry.
However, my outright refusal to worry has recently become weaker, especially as the 2024 presidential election between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump nears. With it, this election carries the future of America and, more importantly, Americans.
I do not need to wax rhapsodic about the dangers electing Trump back to the White House pose. Nor will I list my grievances with some of Kamala Harris’ policy positions. I will, however, share what is keeping me from breaking down into an anxiety-induced panic attack over my future as an American.
One thing in particular struck me about the various sermons I listened to on the Sunday before the election. Almost no pastor chose to speak on John 11: 33-44, the lectionary text for All Saints’ Day in their morning sermon.
This is, of course, not out of the ordinary. Most pastors chose the lectionary text for the Sunday itself, Mark 12: 28-34. Some chose an entirely different text. But after glancing at the All Saints’ Day text, my (rather novice) homiletical gears began turning.
With no pulpit to deliver these remarks from, I turn to Good Faith Media.
We all know the story of Lazarus, Mary of Bethany’s brother. He was ill.
Mary and her sister Martha sent a message to Jesus informing him of their brother’s illness. Jesus chose to stay put for two extra days — enough time for Lazarus to pass away — before he went to Judea, as Jesus puts it, “to awaken [Lazarus].”
Eventually, after some weeping, Jesus ordered the stone to be rolled from the tomb and called for Lazarus to come out. Almost like a soldier following the orders of the general, Lazarus, at that time wrapped in cloth and still described by the gospel writer John as “the dead man,” walked out.
Do we understand what just happened? On the surface, we do. Jesus just raised a dead man. But do we really understand what just happened?
Perhaps years of hearing this text recited and preached have dulled us, so let me use my most effective writing tool and put it plainly: Jesus just raised a man from the dead! As if raising Lazarus wasn’t enough, Jesus did it two other times by raising Jarus’ daughter (Mark 5:21-43) and the widow’s son from the funeral procession (Luke 7:11-17).
If we’re getting tired of Jesus bringing people back from death, he can also walk on water.
That storm you’re worried about? Jesus can calm it.
Those demons the man is possessed by? Jesus can cast them out.
That blind man? Jesus gave him sight.
That paralytic man? Jesus gave him movement.
Let’s not forget the Transfiguration, where Jesus literally speaks with two dead people!
Have I made my point clear?
Excuse the shouting, but we worship a miracle worker! We are following a Christ who brings sight to the blind, movement to the paralyzed and life to the dead.
While this season of political strife may leave some anxiety-bound, I rest easy in knowing I am living with a God who can conquer things much more terrifying than a dictator-wannabe trying to overthrow a two-century-old political system. I rest easy knowing that I am living a life in a God who can conquer something that even the world’s foremost scientists can only postpone — death.
At the risk of seeming a little too doom-and-gloom for my self-professed sunny-side-up disposition, perhaps the crippling anxiety seeded in some by this election is an attempt of evil forces to darken lives for no other purpose than to make life with God unbearable.
Perhaps, if I may continue, the evil one is taking advantage of our — the children of God’s — completely human and, in many cases, completely rational anxiety to weaken our faith. The devil sees that faith in God can be easily weakened when he creates seemingly inescapable doom.
Our miracle-working God has invested too heavily in God’s human experiment to let it all go now. If God can raise Lazarus from the dead while walking this earth in human form, I know God won’t let God’s children fall to the devil.
It is our job, then, to remember this because, in faltering faith, there is weakness. Vote.