WLSU: More Than That

Moments like this implanted within me not only a strong political identity, but also a sense of clarity and certainty: My family’s guy was the good guy, he led the right team, he would win obviously and convincingly, and we would celebrate.

When my dad came out of the closet as gay in 1992, he remained a Republican – as he would until his death in 2006. When questioned over the years about his political loyalty he would point out, correctly, that neither major party had at the time a pro-gay platform, that it was Democrat Bill Clinton who signed into law the Defense of Marriage Act and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policies, and that since he wasn’t going to get any real recognition from either party, he might as well vote for the candidate that best represented his other beliefs.

His gay friends in particular were not persuaded by this argument. For what it was worth, neither was I. I was not interested in complexity – or compromise. I have always been a more difficult and idealistic person than he was. So I was excited in high school when my likewise contrarian brother introduced me to libertarianism. As an idealistic teenager, being libertarian was a fun way to rebel against my socially conservative Christian Republican upbringing without actually joining the Other Team. They were pro-gay rights, which had begun to matter to me for obvious reasons. They also shook many of my other previously held beliefs because they were anti-death penalty, anti-war, and they were for the legalization of drugs and sex work.

Being libertarian was important to me, like being a Republican had been – because I liked being part of something and I liked the sense of identity it gave me. It was also symbolic, because it marked the first time I really was willing to change my mind about a previously held political belief.

I don’t identify as libertarian anymore, and I’ll talk more about that later. But first I want to acknowledge a gift that that time in my life gave me. Prior to becoming libertarian, I thought there were Republicans and Democrats, good guys and bad guys, and that was it. As many of us are taught growing up, I had implicitly believed in the simple dualism of Us versus Them. As I began to realize I didn’t quite fit in with Us, a great anxiety emerged. Being introduced to a third way dissipated that anxiety and expanded possibilities for me. Perhaps that sounds immature, but I was immature – a literal child. And though I do not subscribe to all the same beliefs today, I am grateful for having that time as a way of helping me break free from the false dichotomy in which I was raised.

It is not lost on me, by the way, that talking about all this leaves me open for judgment. That’s why I don’t talk much about it, and certainly haven’t spoken this publicly before. We continue to be guided by an Us versus Them mentality, and by telling you what my political allegiances have been I’m giving you more of a chance to claim me as one of Us, or to label me as one of Them. And it turns out that when I said, “I’m neither Republican or Democrat” I accidentally began to subscribe to a new dualism: “Those who buy into the two-party system and those who don’t.” Us and Them. There’s always a way to make someone a Them, and there’s always a way to think I’m one of the good guys.

So what am I now? I know that’s where this conversation leads. I am politically active and engaged. I am paying attention. I haven’t given up or thrown in the towel. I am not able to call myself a Democrat, but that is not meant as a slight to Democrats. I will vote for them sometimes. I will agree with the party platform sometimes. That alone is a world away from where I once was. But I don’t feel like I am a Democrat. Progressive is a very catchy term right now, and some of my friends have accused me of being one because of my outspoken advocacy for LGBTQ+ people and for racial justice. But that term does not resonate with me either. There are many ways in which I don’t feel aligned with that ideology. My more progressive friends call me a moderate, an institutionalist – one of them called me an incrementalist! I feel like a conservative liberal radical moderate progressive libertarian.

You might think to read this that I enjoy saying, “I don’t know where I belong,” but I don’t enjoy it at all.

What I do know is that I no longer feel a sense of loyalty to a specific political party, ideology, or identity like I did for so long. This is relatively new for me, and I have been struggling with it a lot the last few years. But just in the last couple months I have been helped tremendously by something my friend Herschel Wade asked me. Herschel is a new priest at Redeemer. He is our Associate for Discipleship, and he fits into that role well because above all, he is a disciple of Jesus. He takes discipleship – his own and all of ours - very seriously.

I was bemoaning this political identity struggle to him recently and he cut through all my spiritual meandering, looked me dead in the eye and asked simply, “But don’t you think you’re more than that?” I confess I did not know what he meant. I asked him, and he continued, “Don’t you think God has made you something more than just the member of a party or ideology? That you limit what God is doing within you when you hold tightly to that?”

Oh.

You may have noticed this whole time I have not talked about God. I have talked about my politics and my ideology and my identity, but not about God. And here I am a Christian.

And yes, of course, when it comes to dualism and Us versus Them, Christians can be some of the worst offenders. No question about it. It’s awful and infuriating, and it’s very possible I’m part of the problem. But I believe in Jesus, which Herschel knew and was reminding me of, because he believes in Jesus too. And together we believe that Jesus reminds us of our primary identity: Beloved child of God. That’s what every one of us is before we’re anything else – every single person.

What’s more, those of us who find ourselves believing in Jesus have an allegiance that is meant to transcend party, patriotism, ideology, class, or gender. That means I’m free to be a Republican or a Democrat or whatever else when being that is compatible with following Jesus. And when it’s not compatible, I have to choose Jesus. To choose Jesus is to seek and serve Christ in every person I meet, to respect the dignity of every human being, and to seek love, peace, and justice for all, whatever it costs me.

You’ll notice this kind of following Jesus does not allow us to opt out of the political process, or to give into cynicism. It’s also worth noting that Jesus was willing to die for his belief in the belonging of every single person – not to kill for it, to die for it.

The loyalty we feel to these identities, these ideologies, these parties, even to this country, as Herschel said, don’t we think God has made us more than that?