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To any pastors or church members struggling to love each other in a politically diverse church, I want to tell you that this may be the most important ministry you ever do. God is still speaking and you never know who God will speak through next.
After the election, I hosted a reflection for our pastors and church members. There wasn’t much shock about the results—after all, we live in Michigan, where the country’s division is our local reality, embedded in our towns and within our churches. But there were a few pastors feeling surprised, scared, and rewriting their sermons for that Sunday.
My heart went out to them because they reminded me of myself, back in 2016, as a pastor who had recently moved to Dubuque, Iowa, from Illinois and was also truly shocked at those 2016 election results. Little did I know that, in the weeks that followed, I would discover my new Iowa congregation was much more politically diverse than I’d imagined. My carefully planned 2016 post-election sermon, as well as my long-scheduled, pastorally sensitive “drop-in” hours the day after the election, were all based on the idea that I would be comforting Republicans—not the other way around!
I had nothing to give at that post-election drop-in other than some soggy donuts (I’d probably been crying over them in the car) and the deeper struggle within myself: if I could have been so wrong about predicting the election results in Iowa and about understanding the deeply held views of my church members, was I equally wrong about my call from God to serve there? I think I basically told them all that in my sermon that week, which may have been way too much information for some church members who told me “We really didn’t want to hear who you voted for, Pastor!” There were a few lonely moments that winter of 2016 when I thought about packing my bags, but I’m so glad I didn’t. That purple congregation in the swing state of Iowa ended up being my sweetheart church. Pastors, you know what I’m talking about.
Eight years later, I’m now living in my second swing state and I am so grateful to be your Michigan Conference Minister, a pastor to pastors, responsible for the care of our congregations. I came here with my eyes open, thanks to a plain-spoken search committee who helped me to understand that despite a national news cycle full of unavoidable stories about Michigan militias and pandemic pandemonium, this complicated and diverse swing state is a very special place to be.
So after this recent election, I don’t feel shocked and therefore perhaps not as much pain or disappointment as others do in the United Church of Christ family. I am blessed to be here for such a time as this.
I am not shocked because two years into my conference ministry here in Michigan, I’ve spent many weekends visiting churches in a variety of struggling urban, rural, and suburban areas where the economic lives of the working poor and unemployed haven’t been uplifted by either political party. And I’ve also visited scenic towns suddenly “booming and prosperous” for tourists and those with vacation homes they insist on calling “simple cottages” or “rustic cabins.”
In these areas, rents have doubled, and owning even one home has become unaffordable for so many locals that some literally move into tents for the summer to rent out their trailers and scrape by on tips from serving the “simple cottage” people. These folks can sit on the lake and say with a straight face that the economy is in good shape, based on mega-statistics, because their lake lives aren’t devastated by the cost of cars or groceries. So, this election result comes as no surprise to me. The day after the election didn’t feel too different from the day before. Which is not to say it doesn’t matter.
If anything, I feel like I’ve been pre-grieving this expected result for the last two years, steeling myself to lead in Christ’s church—a church whose power does not depend on whatever mediocrity comes next from a two-party political system that persistently betrays and destroys the hopes of the struggling while assuaging the guilt of the greedy, all from two platforms crafted to appear different yet ultimately two sides of the same stage where powers and principalities perform an outdated play for their own amusement. While I do wish the other team had won, I’ll never be a fan of this theater. Nor will I look to it for my salvation.
The Sunday after the election, I worshipped with Fellowship Chapel that has literally built a village in the city of Detroit. Rev. Wendell Anthony gave an inspiring message that put our current moment in the context of decades of history and progress. And when I brought my own greetings to that church from the wider United Church of Christ, I told them that the weekend before the election, we hosted our annual meeting up in Northern Michigan where our keynote speaker was the first black woman General Minister and President of the United Church of Christ, Rev. Dr. Karen Georgia Thompson
So now that I go back and read what I wrote where this post began, I realize I’m feeling more than I initially thought. Beneath my professional commitments as your Michigan Conference Minister, lie personal and more tender reflections. I am the parent of a trans child who is currently trying to plan their wedding at a church camp in rural Illinois. Like many of you who love the church and live in the public square, I’m a mix of “I saw it all coming” and “I feel everything," in a moment where churches are one of the few places that people who have differing views on politics actually sit together and worship something other than themselves.
Keep at it, Michiganders. I’m thankful for you all.
Rev. Dr. Lillian Daniel
Michigan Conference Minister
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