A decade ago I had the unique privilege of serving our country, first as a congressional staffer, then as a pastor to politicians and their staff.
In my unique role on Capitol Hill I got to know many different people: elephants and donkeys (the Democrat kind); men and women; fathers and mothers; married and divorced; Christian and none. I prayed with them, studied Scripture with them, but most of all I listened to them—listened to their stories and walked beside them in their life-journey.
Most Americans forget this, that Washington D.C. is filled with real people with real stories. Our insatiable consumption of 24-hour cable news has reduced these stories to mere pixels and soundbites, allowing us to dismiss and diminish their humanity.
It’s easy to attack the person behind an idea when they exist only in a fundraising letter, political ad, or angsty blog post. Through my perch on Capitol Hill, however, I saw things differently. I saw first hand what we need to be reminded of this election season:
Politicians are people, too.
I sat with a Congressman from Ohio while he shared about his struggle with finding meaning in life, and then questioned us about our view of the afterlife. (Yes, that forty-five minute conversation happened!)
I helped care for congressional staffers and their boss after his son committed suicide. One evening this well-known Republican Congressman was arguing with his sixteen-year-old son over a traffic ticket. The next day he found him swinging from a rope in his home. This is a real story about a real person.
I remember hearing about the devastating divorce of a young Congressman after two years of marriage; the Senator who, after decades of service, wondered if anything he had accomplished had made any difference; the Member of Congress who buried his wife after cancer wrecked her.
Like the rest of us, our political leaders have real lives with real families and real struggles and hurts. Yet so often this gets lost in the struggle for a “win” on the battlefield of ideas.
When was the last time you interceded before the throne of God on behalf of your congressperson with the same kind of intense passion you give debating his or her ideas at the dinner or barroom table?
And yet this kind of posture, the praying kind, is exactly what Paul urges us in light of their humanity:
“I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” (1 Tim 2:1-2)
Paul’s instructions are deeply Jewish. Back when Israel was living in exile, the prophet Jeremiah told them to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city…Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” (Jer 29:4)
Like Israel, Paul understood God’s redemptive work was universal—it applied to those people as much as us people, which is why his admonition serves as an important reminder for us this election season.
Before and after you rock the vote tomorrow, bend the knee and pray for those men and women—not as politicians, but as people.
Because whether the names on your ballot voted for war or abortion, lower taxes on the rich or gay marriage—they are a real person with a real story.
We can debate how reasonable any number of those ideas are, but let’s not forget the people behind them.
