We step into the voting booth with one foot on the outside. We are Americans, to be sure, but we are much more. We are citizens of the kingdom of God, over which the King of kings reigns supreme. Our time here is temporary. We are resident aliens in a land destined for a fiery destruction. Our allegiance is to Christ.
Sometimes believers vigorously debate God, sometimes they nod a silent Amen. Together, their narratives paint a picture of a life of faith characterized by complexity and tension.
David and Job both know that prayer puts a cigarette lighter to all prim and proper books of religious etiquette. It is honest. Heated. Emotional. Raw. And the psalms are packed with it.
We show up to this crowded sacred shindig on Sundays, all wings and halos and blue jeans, and shimmy our way into the sanctuary, late to church but not late to church, for how can we be late to a service that never ends?