Catching my breath

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, and I’m about to take a week off. Really off. We’re flying out to meet up with family for a vacation in the Black Hills, Wyoming, and Yellowstone. Fishing, hiking, caves, geysers, rustic cabins, caravaning. It’ll be epic.

That is, we’ll be flying out if that Microsoft glitch gets fixed.

Before I go, I want to give a heads-up on a few things.

With all that’s been happening on the political front, I’ve lost track of the number of interviews I’ve given in recent weeks, but here’s an interesting piece that came out yesterday in Financial Times that might be of interest: “What makes Donald Trump irresistible.” It will give you some food for thought.

This afternoon, I gave a lengthy interview to Michel Martin for a segment on Christian nationalism and Project 2025 on Amanpour & Co. I spent *a lot* of time reading and memorizing portions of Project 2025 in preparation for this interview, so give it a listen! It’s scheduled to air Monday at 1pmET on CNNi and 11pmET on PBS.

I don’t have that to share yet, but I had the pleasure of talking with Martin a while back and you can listen to that here if you like.

Also, you’ve heard about our podcast, The Convocation: Unscripted. We soft-launched the podcast to figure things out on the go, but next month we’ll be unveiling a more polished product—and one that will have RSS feed so you can listen to it on your favorite platform. To get updates, be sure to subscribe to The Convocation here on Substack.

Right now, I’m trying to figure out if I can manage squeezing in a Trump rally before heading out. He’ll be in Grand Rapids tomorrow evening with J.D. Vance and I’d love to be there, but logistically it’s tricky since doors open several hours in advance and I have a lot of packing to do between now and the wee hours of Sunday morning when we head to the airport.

I try to go to rallies when I can, though—it gives me a better understanding for why people are drawn to the MAGA movement.

Here’s a sense for what I observed—and felt—the last time around:

Then, three hours into our wait, as the line continued to snake between downtown buildings, the mood began to change. The scheduled start time was drawing nearer, and we peered anxiously at the distance remaining between us and the entrance gates. Late-arriving supporters started to cut in line ahead of us, and our anxiety grew. We’d waited for hours, but it wasn’t at all clear that we’d make it inside.

We were behind the arena when the motorcade pulled up. Trump emerged and the crowd went wild. Once Trump was inside, attention once again turned to the line that stretched ahead. We all sensed it would be close.

It was at this point that something strange happened. For the first time that day, my daughter and I started to feel at one with the crowds. We didn’t share in their support of the president, it’s fair to say, but we all had the common goal of making it inside those doors—even if for very different reasons.

Turning the corner in front of the arena, we came face to face with protestors. The noise was deafening, the shouting back and forth obnoxious. My daughter grabbed my arm in fear. I reminded her that many of the protestors on the other side of the barricades were, in fact, our friends. Some were co-workers, some went to our church. We both knew it, but in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter. We were, quite literally, on the other side. From our vantage point, they did seem threatening. And I began to understand.

I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since that day.

Before I sign off, I want to share one more thought. Between Biden’s debate performance, the assassination attempt, divisions within the Democratic party, the direction of various polls, and this week’s RNC, and the direction of various polls, I’ve heard a some people express hopelessness and despair: “The election’s over.”

It’s ok to take a beat. It’s fine to step back, catch your breath, and get your bearings. One thing I know for certain, however, is that this election is not over. It’s not too late. There is so much time between now and then. So much can happen. And there’s so much to do.

I would love to have a strong candidate to rally around. I’d love to have a strong party uniting Americans of all stripes to take a stand for democracy. I’d love for political leaders and parties to put their country above their personal ambitions. But here we are.

All we’ve got is us. We have our votes and we have our voices.

On November 6, it will be too late. There will be no walking things back. At that point, would you be tempted to wish for the ability to go back in time and try again, one more time? Right now, we have that time, and the path is ours to find.