Preparing for a long defeat

Looking to November, and beyond

If you’re like me and you’ve been tracking polling data on the 2024 election, you may be feeling a little unsettled. A couple caveats: This far in advance, polls have relatively little predictive power. Moreover, some of the polls putting Trump over Biden are still within the margin of error. Still, given what is at stake in the election, the numbers are disconcerting, particularly in the all-important swing states.

This reality was swirling in my head on a Sunday morning a couple weeks back. It was Ascension Day, and as I settled in to listen to the sermon, I felt that the words were meeting me exactly where I was:

“What is the calling of the church? You know what that is. Take up your cross and follow me. The church is called to follow its king in self-sacrificing love.”

“Somehow the church tends to pick up the idea that we’re supposed to win. That our place in the world is not one of suffering love, but victorious power….”

“It’s so easy for the church to forget that Christ did not call us to rule but to serve. He called us, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it, to come and die. The church’s role in history is to live the way of the King, the way of the cross, the way of self-giving love.”

Yes, this. The church is called to love, not to seize power. This is why, as a Christian, I’ve been pushing against Christian nationalism. (I have reasons for doing so as an American, too.)

It’s no surprise that I’ve ended up where I am on this issue. This is the preaching I’ve been listening to for now. In fact, Len Vander Zee, the pastor I was listening to now, had pastored the church I attended in graduate school many years ago.

As I listened to the sermon, I was thinking about steeling myself for the months ahead. I thought of the organizations and networks I was involved with, of the posts I had planned here, of the traveling I would be doing, of the projects (some yet to be unveiled) that I’d be dedicating my time and energy to. My mind was wandering, but I was still following along with the sermon. And then I heard the words that jarred me. Len was quoting Celeborn and Galadriel in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, saying: “together through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.” Tolkien expanded on this in a letter to a friend: “I am a Christian….so I do not expect history to be anything but a long defeat, though it contains…… some glimpse of final victory.”

A long defeat.

Here I was preparing for victory, focused on doing what I could in my own way to help defeat the threat of Christian nationalism, trying to do what I could to allow our democracy to live another day. The fact that it isn’t our job as Christians to win has been one of the things motivating me to push back against Christian nationalism. But it struck me now that it’s not just the other guys who need to hear this.

We all think our cause is righteous. And when you refuse to allow for the possibility of losing, it changes what you’re fighting for. It changes how you fight. And it changes who you are.

This past week, I watched as the conservative Christian Twitter-sphere erupted in controversy after Carl Trueman pushed back against the “pop Nietzscheanism” masquerading as Christianity. He took to task the way certain people on the Right have been using Aaron Renn’s “negative world” framework to justify pursuing their ends by any means necessary. The way of Christ, he reminded readers, is “the Calvary Option,” the way of the crucifixion. Trueman and I aren’t always on the same page, but in this we are.   

Not surprisingly, many on the Right took issue with Trueman. Over at the American Reformer, Ben Crenshaw penned a lengthy critique of Trueman’s essay that ended with a punch:

“Politically-active American Christians who defy the enemies of God and wage war against evil, and who necessarily employ crude memes, subterfuge, and even deception toward these ends, will likewise be commended for their faith. Trueman’s faith is too small and anemic for the political, but that does not make us Nietzscheans.”

Well, this certainly explains some of my experience with select Christian critics on social media: “crude memes, subterfuge, and even deception” in the name of defying “the enemies of God” and waging “war against evil.” It was obvious before, but nice to have it stated so clearly. This is also why I’ve decided over the past months to limit my engagement with those who consistently lie and malign. There is simply no conversation to be had.

And this is a difference, I think, between my own desire to win and the desires of many of those intent on seizing power and replacing our pluralist democracy with some version of a Christian nationalist fantasy. As much as I want my side to win this next round, it’s not a given. The cause is urgent, and (I think) good. But we are not called to win, nor should we necessarily expect to.

This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t work diligently to protect the good of our nation and our fellow citizens, and, for those of us who are Christians, to fight against what we see as a dangerous distortion of our faith. I’m planning on spending the next several months working to this end. But it also means that we need to be grounded in something deeper than winning the next battle. If we are, I think we’ll find the resilience to grapple with whatever the outcome of the next battle might be.

If you’re finding yourself in a place of anxiety, apathy, or despair, perhaps you’ll find these words encouraging as well. I’m including below a longer excerpt from the sermon, but you can watch the whole thing here.

I hope the words stick with you as they have with me:

When you think about it, the Ascension of Christ is kind of weird….You might think that it could be a much better story if the risen, victorious Christ stuck around, at least for a while. He might appear in Rome or Athens, showing everyone the reality of his resurrection. Telling the world the story of his victory over the powers of evil, and the forgiveness of sins. He’d be unbeatable. If anyone would seek to take him out, he could just become invisible like Frodo with the ring of power.

That’s the story of Jesus as it would be featured in the super hero comic book, or the latest Marvel movie blockbuster.

I’m making fun of it, but still, this is the great anomaly of the Ascension. Jesus Christ ascends to be enthroned in glory as victor over sin and death. But then everything seems to go on as before.

This is exactly where we tend to misunderstand God’s way of salvation. Jesus Christ is enthroned not as the super-hero but as the Lamb that was slain. He goes to the throne with all his wounds intact.

His wounds testify that he has gone all the way to the torture of a cross to redeem the world. His wounds are the marks of a great victory. This is the way God overcomes evil. As Paul says, the cross, the cross is the power of God and the wisdom of God.

Here’s how Paul talks about the ascension in our text today.

“God put this power (the power of the cross, the power of love) to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places,  far above all rule and authority and power and dominion and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things…and here’s the big twist in the story…for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

Paul says, that Christ is “head over all things for the church, which is his body.” In other words, in his ascension Jesus is now handing his work over to the church. That’s always God’s way. He doesn’t do it all. God made us to be rulers of creation, and he never gives up on the idea.

God gives real agency, real crucial and important work to the church. And what is that work? What is the calling of the church? You know what that is. Take up your cross and follow me. The church is called to follow its king in self-sacrificing love.

As Paul puts it elsewhere. “God reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.” The church is to announce and demonstrate before the world that a great regime change has taken place,

The risen, Jesus Christ is King. The new Adam has restored our human dignity. Sin is forgiven, death has been defeated. Love has won. And now we all should get on board with the new administration.

And the way we announce this is to worship Christ our King, and live out Christ’s love before the world. That’s the church’s job description.

But the church seems to have a real problem with this job description. Somehow the church tends to pick up the idea that we’re supposed to win. That our place in the world is not one of suffering love, but victorious power.

It’s so easy for the church to forget that Christ did not call us to rule but to serve. He called us, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it, to come and die. The church’s role in history is to live the way of the King, the way of the cross, the way of self-giving love.

There’s an interesting moment in Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings” when Celeborn and Galadriel say, “together through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.” Tolkien himself picks up that strange idea in a letter to a friend where he writes, “I am a Christian….so I do not expect history to be anything but a long defeat, though it contains…… some glimpse of final victory.” By ‘history’ Tolkien means this world, or as Paul calls it, this age which is passing away.

The point of the Lord of the Rings is not that Frodo and Samwise Gamgee and Gandalf are super heroes. It’s that they sacrificed themselves in love and refuse to wear the ring of power.

We do not place our hope in history. We do not place our hope in politics. We do not place our hope in power. Our hope is in our wounded king who sits at the right hand of God in heaven. The way of the Christian in the world is “the long defeat.” As Daniel Berrigan once said, “One is not commanded to be on the winning side, but to be in the right place when the Lord returns."

And when he comes again at the end of the age, he will not ask, did you win? He will ask did you see me, did you touch me, did you bend to help me?  Because inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you have done it to me. Christ is right here with us all through this age that is passing away. He comes to us in what Mother Theresa called, his distressing disguise, the poor and lost people all around us.

That’s why we can live in the long defeat of history with our heads held high. That’s why we can spend our lives meeting Christ in the losers of this world.

…There’s one more image for Christ’s ascension that I want to bring out. It’s an image that I think can help us endure though the struggles of life and history.

It’s in Hebrews 6:

“We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the veil, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered, having become a high priest forever.”

The anchor of the soul behind the veil of heaven.

…My mother, for all her love and care, was in some ways a very troubled woman. She was scarred and wounded by deep traumas in her past. But she trusted in Jesus Christ, and we all knew it.

She carried this image of the anchor with her through the many struggles of her life. She used to sing this old hymn based on Hebrews 6. George Beverley Shea would sing it at Billie Graham rallies. Not great poetry, or even music, but it was a powerful grab bar for her struggling faith. 

The song is, “In times like these”. The first verse goes,

in times like these you need a savior,

in times like these you need an anchor.

The last verse is

In times like these I have a Savior

In times like these I have an anchor

I'm very sure I'm very sure

And here’s the part I can still hear her singing in the kitchen.  

My anchor holds and grips the solid Rock

That’s what Paul means when he calls us to “seek the things that are above, where Christ is.” It’s not that we forsake the world, far from it. It’s that we live in the world as people of hope.

The world we live in is a scary place. Many of us feel tremendous anxiety as we follow the news every day. We wonder, what will become of us? What will the things be like for our children? I cannot assure you today that the world will get better and better. The Bible seems to tell us that history, this age that is passing away, is the story of a long defeat.

But on this Ascension Day I can tell you that no matter where history takes us, Jesus Christ is Lord, at the right hand of God the Father. He will never let go of his creation.

The anchor of our hope grips the rock of Christ’s victory over all the dark powers of sin and death. Love will win, and the ring of power will be thrown into the lake of fire. Because one day “every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.”

**In the spririt of nevertheless keeping up the fight, I’ll have an announcement coming this next week about a new endeavor I’ll be involved in. This, after promising myself I would *not* take on any new endeavors until the next book is done. But this one was too fun to pass up. Stay tuned…

***Also, because I’ve appreciated the comments from so many readers on the last two posts, I’ll be keeping comments open here as well. I’d love to hear from you!