I remember that lunch like it was yesterday. I was only 20 years old and not looking to offend my militant herbivorous colleagues. One by one, they ordered their quinoa salad, tofu stir-fry, and lentil soup. At the table beside us, I spotted a tantalizing open-faced Reuben sandwich and a mushroom Swiss burger.
As my mouth began watering, the server asked for my order. To my chagrin, instead of ordering what I wanted, I asked for a Southwest salad and an iced tea. A desire to maintain peace, and fear of being canceled, reduced me to a vegan impersonator.
Over the last 30 years, I’ve dreamed about returning to that moment for a redo. Instead of a salad, I wish I’d ordered a giant rib eye steak and a large glass of whole milk. What would my lunch companions have done? Mocked me? Asked me to sit at another table? Or perhaps appreciated that I was unlike them? I don’t know.
This, it seems to me, is the dilemma pastors face in our current election season. They’re pressured from both the political left and right to align their preaching and ministry with partisan expectations. This sometimes consists of demands to endorse specific candidates or to denounce others. More often, however, it’s subtle expectations to speak out against political and cultural “enemies.”
The message pastors are hearing is clear: conform to these expectations or be labeled a coward. In today’s highly partisan digital age, pastors fear that a wrong or ill-considered word could jeopardize their ministries.
Navigate the Political Rapids
We pastors can fall off two sides of the horse during an election year. The first is to pretend we’re entirely disinterested when it comes to politics, as though theological and moral truth have nothing to do with how we order society for the common good.
In today’s highly partisan digital age, pastors fear that a wrong or ill-considered word could jeopardize their ministries.
This extreme ignores our calling to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (Mic. 6:8). It also ignores Jesus’s commands to be salt and light (Matt. 5:13–16) and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mark 12:31). Such supposed neutrality looks a lot like the priest and the Levite who, in the face of great need, passed by on the other side (Luke 10:25–37).
But then there’s the other side of the horse. In today’s fraught political moment, we pastors can become fixated on political events and personalities. They slowly become the lens through which we view everything. We check the news regularly to see how our political team is doing. We get multiple dopamine hits every time we scroll through the headlines. Politics becomes the topic of conversation with our friends—and even with congregants. Then our growing partisanship seeps into our writing and teaching, maybe in thinly veiled (or not so veiled) references to specific candidates or their policies.
Some of us venture where even angels fear to tread, such as the pastor who endorses a political candidate on social media only to foment a regrettable swirl of confusion and disillusionment. Or it may occur when we introduce video curriculum that claims to refocus political discussions on Jesus, but does so by featuring journalists or academics who hold deeply partisan views.
History is filled with painful examples of the church being co-opted or unequally yoked with the state, leading to disastrous consequences. We can recall the corruption and scandal of the Papal States under Alexander VI, the church’s support of chattel slavery in the Confederacy, and the compromised Protestant churches in Nazi Germany. Far too often, secular leaders have been eager to exploit Christians for their own sordid ends. This is the path to compromising our Christian witness before a watching world.
What’s a pastor who aims for biblical faithfulness to do?
Remember Your Pastoral Identity and Calling
The pressure pastors face isn’t only normal; it’s an immense privilege. It’s common for pastors to wake in the night, grappling in prayer over contentious issues, feeling broken and depleted, yet discovering the Lord’s merciful presence.
This cruciform experience is fundamental to our ministry calling. Paul declares, “I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:10, NIV).
Though pressure is both common and necessary, we must remain resolute in our identity as ambassadors of King Jesus. For example, pastors often ask me, “What do God and the people I serve expect of me?” These, I’d suggest, are two distinct questions, and we must focus on the first: What does God expect of me?
Yes, we love our congregations and want to serve them well, but when the expectations of our community come first, we inevitably become domesticated prophets, employees of the church who resemble smiling greeters at Costco. We become anxious, complaining, and compulsive—eager to please our ever-demanding customers. We become like Martha, “troubled about many things” but ignoring the one necessary thing (Luke 10:41–42).
What’s the one necessary thing? It starts with fearing the Lord, for that’s the beginning of wisdom (Prov. 9:10).
The pressure pastors face isn’t only normal; it’s an immense privilege.
In these turbulent times, our allegiance to Scripture and the gospel must be our defining characteristic. John Stott described this as living “between two worlds“—prioritizing the sacred text while thoughtfully applying its truth to contemporary hearers.
This commitment calls us to boldly proclaim God’s Word, ensuring we don’t allow ourselves to be reduced to partisan mouthpieces. It requires us to courageously speak God’s Word without falling into the trap of aligning ourselves with a political party. It requires us to address vexing issues, even political issues, such as the abortion of millions of unborn lives, human trafficking, racial discrimination, gender identity and sexual ethics, questions of artificial intelligence and human dignity, or the decline of schools into indoctrination centers that sexually exploit children.
Pastor with a Gospel Focus
As the months and years unfold, such preaching may result in threats and persecutions. Nevertheless, we’ll confess the apostolic conviction: “I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God” (Acts 20:24).
This is our pastoral calling: preaching Christ, breaking bread, persisting in prayer and joyful song, serving our neighbors, showing hospitality, raising families, protecting the vulnerable, enduring hardship, proclaiming righteousness, suffering for Jesus’s name that we may share his glory. And if that preaching sometimes seems to resonate with one political party over another, so be it, for we must confront evil in all its forms. We refuse to allow the lamp of truth to be hidden under a table—it must be displayed on a stand to challenge this world’s idols. God has promised to advance his kingdom through such sustained commitment of faith (Matt. 11:12).
Who is sufficient for such things? We certainly aren’t. Nonetheless, here we stand. As Martin Luther said at Worms, “My conscience is captive to the Word of God.”
Not everyone in the congregation will be pleased—and that’s OK. As a friend of mine once put it, “Pastoral ministry is the art of disappointing people at a rate they can absorb.”
So go ahead. Order the ribeye steak and glass of whole milk.