Dave Schmelzer is the Senior Pastor at the Vineyard Church in Boston. He was a core reason that we continued to be challenged by a more structured setting of church, when we were in fact, in the midst of deconstructing that very entity, at that time. Dave has a "column" of sorts on their website, that I try to keep up with.

I want to share this one with you, simply because it is a challenge to me - being that I have more hate in my heart than I am normally willing to admit - certainly in regards to certain political entities, and the persons who most represent them. It also filters into many other areas of my life as well.

Vote Conversationalist! | Oct 07

It's hard to believe that the first presidential primary is only three and a half months away-feeling, as it does, that the election itself must have already happened, given its nonstop coverage. Surely I know more about Barack Obama at this stage of the game than I ever did about Gerald Ford.

As a pastor, times like this remind me of my long-standing love of Billy Graham. You might not share that love. And I'm not sure my love comes uniquely from what he did for a living. Rather, I love him for quotes like this one, from the recent book on him called The Preacher and the Presidents.

(Graham) carried the (presidential) families through times of loss-literal and political; several wanted him to be with them during their last nights in the White House. Richard Nixon collapsed in Graham's arms at his mother's funeral in 1967. Bill Clinton took him to sit at the bedside of a dying friend in 1989. Graham was the first person outside the family whom Nancy Reagan called when her husband died in 2004. Last month, (Lyndon) Johnson's daughters Lynda and Luci reached out to him as their mother was dying.

How many other people do you know who've been good friends both with Richard Nixon and Hilary Clinton? Graham explains that surprising open-heartedness by saying:

"Politics has always been ugly to me, and yet I accept that as a fact of life. The emphasis I tried to leave was love, not…my own love for them, but that they needed to have love for the people who were opposed to them."

It seems surprising that the message of love of their political enemies is what would endear him to eleven different presidents. But it hits home with me.

I'm often asked about the political stance of our church, which seems understandable-and, perhaps for that reason, doubly frustrating when I won't answer it. Everything might seem attractive enough up front to me, the visitor, but if I stick with this thing, will I find myself picketing the homes of abortionists-or sweatshop CEOs? What's your political stance?

I wonder if the best way to describe our political orientation is to say that we seem to be conversationalists. We evidently love to chat. A frequent question we're asked by people checking us out from both sides of the ideological spectrum, for instance, is about our position on gay marriage. And our answer is that we don't seem to be a position-paper bunch. But we do have thoughtful people who love to talk about questions like that and we'd love to hear what's on the heart of the person asking and would be happy to share anything and everything over a cup of coffee. Got any time this week?

Now, clearly, some folks really did just want a position paper, and our conversationalist answer has given them all the information they need. But you'd be surprised how many people take us up on our offer and get, in the best sense, more than they bargained for. I meet a sizable handful of people who tell me about the gifts those conversations turned out to be-when they thought that all they wanted was to know if we met their litmus test.

William Wilberforce-who famously led the anti-slavery fight in the English Parliament-was known for loving his political enemies, for talking with them, for caring about them even as he fought the fight he felt he had to. He's one of the few politicians I'm aware of who, while right at the center of a lightning-rod issue, was beloved enough by his political enemies that they lined up to eulogize him.

My dream is to have friends who campaign for the Green Party and others who campaign for Mitt Romney. (And, hang on, I've attained my dream!) It seems to me that this dream serves three purposes: one personal, one civic, and one spiritual.

On the personal front: this is just flat fun. Banding together around a common hatred of the idiots on the other side gets thin, to me at least.
On the civic side: well, where else does this happen? Where else can thoughtful dialogue happen unless it starts with you and me? Don't we, in fact, have common problems that might best be solved by an approach other than waiting for the next election and hoping the bad guys lose?

And on the spiritual side, I'd love to leave you with another thought from the redoubtable Reverend Graham as he speaks to his own theological camp, the evangelicals.

As other evangelical leaders emerged to play more muscular roles in politics in the late 1970s, Graham tried to warn them about the dangers they faced. In 1981 he declared that "Evangelicals can't be closely identified with any particular party or person. We have to stand in the middle, to preach to all the people, right and left. I haven't been faithful to my own advice in the past. I will in the future."
By all means, form and hold strong political opinions (as we all seem to do whether directed to or not). But can I urge you as this next election draws (glacially) near: vote conversationalist!

Here also, is a challenging video, from the Psalters, interviewed by Shane Claiborne.