Donald Trump lost the 2020 election. I say this upfront because I don’t want you to think I imagine millions of “Trump ballots” are hidden in the basement of the DNC. (Though, I suppose, Democrats being such keen environmentalists, the ballots would have been recycled by now.)
Joe Biden won the 2020 election. Across the nation and around the world people celebrated. Frigid Duluth and humble Lewis Center had fireworks. The Texas county where I live went “blue” for the first time in decades—I don’t recall fireworks but I’m sure there were not a few quiet (and much safer) fist-pumps in the privacy of happy voters’ homes. Of course, the celebration wasn’t limited to the United States. A friend from Down Under sent a brief video/cartoon produced by a fellow Aussie; it depicted the Statue of Liberty boogieing, Lincoln jumping down from his chair at the memorial to do a jazz dance, and Martin Luther King’s statue break-dancing—all to celebrate Trump’s loss and Biden’s ascendency.
When Biden was inaugurated, many people hung on his words as if his speech was the Sermon on the Mount. No, wait, the Sermon probably had more critics.
As I observed my small coterie of friends respond to Biden’s victory, one word kept coming to mind: Joy.
If my rejoicing friends noticed my reticence, they were too gracious to mention it. I didn’t jump onto the conga line, didn’t don a party hat and toss confetti. No, I wasn’t being a sore loser. I didn’t vote for Trump. And I sincerely hope Biden is a better president.
And no, my reticence wasn’t because too much hope was being placed in the new president—even though I think those celebrating his presidency are asking too much of him.
I kept remembering one thing: Though he lost, Donald Trump received more votes in 2020 than he did in 2016. Surely, when the echoes of the fireworks fade and the confetti is swept away, some of those celebrating will notice how deeply divided our nation remains.
A friend who passed a few years ago used to say, “We’re headed toward a civil war.” I listened politely and inwardly thought he was overstating the case. Now, I’m not so sure.
During the past couple years, I’ve been reading a lot about the late-antebellum period in American history
America was deeply divided. Each presidential election seemed more rancorous than the last. Armed citizens seized federal facilities, hoping to foment insurrection. Private groups covertly provided guns to those they hoped would join their cause. Elected official engaged in name-calling and occasional acts of violence against one another. Parts of the nation threatened to secede. The media spread rumors and falsehoods, increasing the hostility and suspicion. Evangelicals were divided over the most heated moral issue of the day: Abolition. (Incredibly, each side believed its position was the Biblical position.)
Then came Fort Sumter.
Do I believe we are headed to another war on the scale of the American civil war? Not really. Do I believe we have seen the last attack on the government? No.
The Evangelical Left (yes, there is one) has spent four years shaming the Evangelical Right (doubtless, you’ve heard of them) for how they voted in 2016. The Evangelical Right has responded with “Nanny, Nanny, Boo, Boo, we beat you” and an occasional reasoned explanation why Trump was the only alternative to Clinton. In all of this, evangelicals at both ends of the political spectrum failed to mention one of the historic hallmarks of evangelicalism. Evangelicals have always been identified by their call for conversion. They believe people need to be born again, converted, fundamentally changed by the power of God.
In the mid-nineteenth century, ardent abolitionist Charles Finney became concerned about how focused some of his fellow evangelicals had become on ending slavery. He wanted to see it end as well. He wrote and preached against the institution. Yet, he feared some evangelicals were dampening their ardor for evangelism, forgetting changed hearts lead to changed behavior, individually and socially.
Nineteenth century evangelicals never completely forgot the importance of evangelism; nor, despite rumors to the contrary, did they completely forget the social aspects of the gospel.
As I’ve followed today’s evangelicals debating about Trump, I’ve sometimes wondered if either the left or the right remembers the importance of changed hearts. Each side labors relentlessly for changed laws, changed policies, changed leadership. But maybe we need changed lives. Just a thought.
