I sat in the waiting room at my tire shop for 90 minutes today. For almost all of that time, I shared a corner with a stranger.
He was a burly dude with “We The People” tattooed down his forearm. I noticed a patch in the style of a military division on his backpack. Eight feet from a “masks required” sign, he sat and walked around without a mask. I started paying attention to all of these details when I overheard him watching an extremist video on his phone. The voice sounded like a deepfake version of Donald Trump’s voice, and it challenged the viewer to join those who will be storming the Capitol again on Inauguration Day. I don’t know if he was watching it out of investigation or approval, but he didn’t hide it or turn down the volume.
In my chair, I wrote inscriptions for birthday, get well, and encouragement cards, using a book titled Live in Grace • Walk in Love as a lap desk while piano music played in my headphones. I looked up from my writing to see the patriot staring at my eyes. He won the staring match in the same second I joined it. Maybe it was because of the pretty pink unicorn on my niece’s card, but I immediately looked away. I wished the mechanic had already pulled my car around with its new mountain graphics, lift kit, rally racing wheels, and off-road tires. I felt like he was judging my masculinity.
As I drove away a half hour later, I kept replaying that scene in my mind. I kept seeing the intimidation in his eyes. In those two chairs sat two different visions for changing America; and at different times in my life, I’ve sat in both. One wants to force their political opponents to abide by their values. The other strives to influence others through personal relationships. One dehumanizes those who don’t agree with them. The other looks for the human story, the human experience. One fights for enough votes or protestors to declare a partisan mandate. The other one lives with a mission to do for one what they’d do for many.
This isn’t a Republican vs. Democrat difference. Donkeys and elephants sit in both of those chairs. This isn’t a Christian or secular divide, either. Both evangelicals and atheists live in each of these camps, too. Both parties misuse Scripture, and both ends of the spectrum avoid the passages they don’t like. Conservatives and liberals both place their hope for the future in elections. Both sides of the aisle hear permission for extremism in the words of their favorite elected officials.
Thankfully, people of multiple political persuasions also sit in the other chair. They realize that changing culture requires changing hearts. No law can do that. No government can do that. Persuasive art can, as can biased media. Educators and celebrities can sway opinion, as can preachers and authors, podcasters and social media accounts.
But so do conversations amongst friends. So do cards and letters. So do the inarguable stories of those affected by government policies and the tenor of its leaders—especially the stories in the lives we touch. So do lives lived above reproach, people known more for love than hate.
One of these chairs asks the government to fix things on their behalf, to regulate only people who act differently than them. The other chair doesn’t wait for city hall, the statehouse, or Washington, D.C. to be a part of the solution. One of these chairs looks for leverage. The other looks for influence. One of these chairs uses the sins of their opponent to excuse their own. The other sees their own sin and lets it inform the grace they extend to others.
As I said, I’ve sat in both chairs. Sadly, I’ve switched back and forth. Fifteen years ago, I celebrated when our soldiers painted anti-Islamic statements on bombs they then dropped on other countries. Now, I send money to organizations caring for the innocents living under those bombs. But the shift isn’t always that dramatic, and it’s not always in the right direction. Sometimes, I try to argue people into believing something. Sometimes, I group people together and paint them with a broad brush. Sometimes, I celebrate the natural consequences of inappropriate actions by people who disagree with me. Some days, I feel my fists clench when I talk about certain pastors or elected officials.
But not today. Today, I wrote cards and dropped off care packages. Today, I asked for advice and reminded people of their worth. Today, I gave a friend of a different political persuasion permission to express his heartache. Today, I didn’t comment on ridiculous posts.
Today, I got it right. That got my streak of good days up to one in a row.
Tomorrow, I’m going to try to double that streak. For your sake and the sake of our shared nation, I hope you’ll join me.
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Stock image purchased from iStockPhoto.com
