This has been an incredibly difficult season for all of us, regardless of political or religious leanings. America is torn in a way that we haven’t seen for decades, if not our entire lives. For those of us of a certain age, we are reminded of the turbulent 1960s with massive urban riots, marches, extremists blowing up buildings and a war that seemed to drag on forever, claiming the lives of tens of thousands of our young men and causing a massive fracture in the national psyche. I was alive and aware then and it feels like that again.

I count among very close friends and family members, men and women whose viewpoints are widely ranging. Some are on the political left and some are on the political right. Some are atheists, others agnostic, some adhere to faiths different from my own and some are in alignment with my own beliefs. I have tried to disengage from any debates in recent weeks and months but it’s hard. As one who is grounded in history, political and economic philosophy and theology, I am wired to listen to evidence and opinion and to dialogue with others about these things.

The pandemic has served as a kind of chemical catalyst, setting fire to the tinder of our differences, causing massive increases in anxiety, fear, anger and other emotions. While I have tried to insulate myself from as much of this as possible because I can see how it has negatively affected me, I have not succeeded as well as I wish.

Turning off the TV and trying to tune out the shouting has helped to a degree but not enough. I belong in this world, aware, called to be an active participant. I am not called to be a hermit, nor an ostrich with one’s head in the sand.

So, what is a Christian supposed to do?

Diane and I have little stickers on the back windows of our two cars. They send a message that we are “not of this world.”

This is true. I am not of this world.

However, I am in it.

There is a difference. And, it is a big one. From one perspective, it is a fine line. From another perspective, an enormous gulf.

On the one hand, I was born in San Francisco in February of 1954 to a mother and father, who raised me to adulthood before I went off on my own at age 18. On the other hand, I am an eternal being, created in the image of God, who is my Father in the greatest sense and with whom I will spend that eternity. Two different realities. Both absolutely real. Both claiming me. Both defining who I am.

So, what does it mean to be “In this world but not of it?”

The short of it is that it’s a conundrum … even a battle when you get down to it. I’ll try to explain.

There are many who think that the natural reality of this existence is all there is and the idea that there is another overarching reality and an eminently powerful and loving supernatural God is anathema, to use a term.

Then there are many who think that the supernatural reality is so all encompassing that it does no good to pay attention to the (in comparison) trivialities of this natural world and the things that exist in it.

Jesus brooks no quarter. He says that both are very real and that we need to find the proper balance between them.

Easier said than done.

I am called, therefore, to be fully engaged in the circumstances surrounding me. To be specific, I am called to partner with God for the restoration of the world.

This means that God actually cares about things here and now and has a blueprint for the way things should be, even though they have gone completely cattywampus. My job is to help bring things to right … and that has a whole lot to do with the Second Commandment directing us to love one another.

It also has a whole lot to do with restructuring my thoughts, my actions, and my habits to bring them more in line with the remarkable teachings Jesus shared in his three-year ministry and that were later expounded upon by the Apostle Paul and the many others who followed.

On the other hand, I am called to realize that “my help comes from above,” as it’s put in one way. I cannot do this on my own. I am connected to a reality that nearly defies all comprehension but it is one I have seen and experienced with my own eyes and other senses. It is as real as the things that stand before me each day.

There is actually very little that I am in charge of. There is actually a very small universe over which I exercise control or influence. This is coming from a political activist who has walked countless streets, knocked on untold numbers of doors, made far more phone calls than I care to remember, marched, extolled, organized, researched, debated and on and on for as long as I can remember. I cast votes and sometimes my people win out and sometimes they don’t.

Next week, America will probably find out who our next President will be and which party or political group will control which parts of the federal government and many of the state and local governments.

Given most analyses, around 50% of the public, give or take, will be happy and the other 50% give or take will be quite upset.

On the other hand, God is God and Jesus is Jesus. Neither loses heavenly sleep over the outcome of an election on a small portion of this earth.

What they do lose sleep over, to coin a phrase, is whether I place my faith and hope in them as the ultimate arbiter of all things. What I know they desire is for me to see myself and others as they see me and us. And, that’s very different from what we think about when we’re immersed in the muck of disease and dissention.

I have lived long immersed in the world, passionately devoting much of my energies to things like justice and other socio-economic and political causes as well as seeing that thousands upon thousands of our children are cared for and given the best possible chance to flourish in their lives ahead. I don’t regret any of that. In fact, it’s been a great blessing to have lived such a life.

However, for far too long, I failed to understand the limitations of such devotion and the traps that accompanied such focused objectives.

With the realization that there is purpose and a plan infinitely greater than that of my own making, my perspective has changed. Not completely. Not by a longshot. But, it has changed.

I will wake up next Wednesday morning like most Americans to a new day. Perhaps we’ll know the lay of the land by then or maybe it will take a bit longer. I will either be relieved or troubled by the results. If I am relieved, I pray that God will grant me compassion for those who are deeply angered. If I am troubled, I pray that God will grant me peace and a full comprehension that nothing can separate me from Him … and that is the greatest news any of us can ever want.