The Knot in My Country, My Church and My Stomach

I pastor a church in Allentown, Pennsylvania, a swing state for national elections for the past decade. I joke that if I publicly endorsed a presidential candidate from the stage on a Sunday morning, a brawl would break out before the closing song. But it hasn't always been this way.

Our region was once known for farming and steel. Faith Church (EFCA) was founded by Pennsylvania Dutch believers who loved Jesus and wanted to share His gospel with their neighbors and the nations. In the early 1960s, they bought a cornfield and built a small country church with their own hands. It was a blue-collar congregation in a blue-collar town with a vision to reach the world with the love of Jesus.  

Then the Lehigh Valley became one of the fastest-growing regions in the country. Allentown grew more diverse—racially, economically and politically. If Faith Church was going to remain committed to sharing the love of Christ with its neighbors, we also had to change. When I transitioned into the role of lead pastor in 2009, something Jesus said in Mark arrested my thinking:  

"My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations” (Mark 11:17, emphasis mine) 

If God's house is meant to hold every nation and ethnicity, then certainly it’s meant to hold every economic and political conviction, too. As Pennsylvania turned into a battleground state, Faith Church was becoming a house of prayer for all nations—and convictions. And I had to learn how to pastor people through the knotted-up mess we were experiencing.

A few weeks before the 2020 election, a member of our church sat across from me, visibly worked up. He loved this church. He served faithfully. He was invested in his small group. But he'd hit a wall. Another member of his small group kept steering their gatherings into partisan territory—not occasionally, regularly. And this member who sat across from me, who genuinely respected his brother causing the friction, had finally run out of patience: "How am I supposed to grow in Christ next to people who think like this?”

These are the moments in pastoral ministry where you pray hard before you say anything. The man sitting across from me was hurt and angry—and hurt, angry people tend to make broad generalizations. I understood that. But I also know the tendency of Christ-followers who, gripped by fear, struggle to separate their faith from their politics.

In that moment, I felt the knot—two brothers in Christ, who genuinely loved each other, being pulled apart by politics. That story has played on repeat across our churches for the better part of a decade. What do you do when your country, your church and your stomach are all tangled up in knots?

Understanding knots 

All of us know the unique frustration of knots. You're moving fast through life, and all of a sudden, your shoelace gets tangled, slowing you down and causing frustration.

When something gets knotted up, you have three basic options: 

• First, do nothing. Live life with the annoyance and hope it doesn’t get worse. 
• Second, grab a pair of scissors and cut it out—and, in the process, lose the shoelace altogether.  
• The third option is the hardest: Slow down and work the knot.  

While all may be reasonable approaches, there is only one—in my opinion—that leads to preservation and peace. 

Physical knots demand a response—ignore them, cut them or work them out—so does the tangled mess of life in the U.S. today. Tension is everywhere. On every front. Within every population and subpopulation. In every corner of society. While there have always been seasons of tension and injustice in our country, most of us can remember moments of greater national unity—times when public, private and spiritual lives were flawed yet still flowing. Moments when we could collectively name the problems and civilly discuss solutions. Today, those three dimensions of life are so knotted together we're not sure where one ends and another begins. 

Consider the murder of George Floyd in the summer of 2020 or the assassination of Charlie Kirk in the fall of 2025. Pastors and churches on every side of the issue were demonized for their responses—or lack thereof. Or think of the polarizing topic of immigration, where law interpretation and enforcement are constantly changing, leaving many frustrated and fearful. These are just three examples of the complex knots that can twist up our public, private and spiritual lives, and cause tension in real congregations among real Christians who love Jesus.

All of us feel the growing tightness—and for many, it has become a knot that never leaves our stomachs. The question is the same one we face with any knot: Do we ignore it and hope it loosens on its own? Do we cut through it, disregarding nuance, and in doing so, cause irreparable damage? Or do we have the patience—the Holy Spirit-empowered stamina—to slow down and work it out, thread by thread? 

Acknowledge the knot

First, let's stop and try to describe the knot we feel—because we can only understand it by examining its individual threads.

There's the thread of economics: inflation, a living wage, the crushing cost of healthcare, the quiet dread of retirement. There's the thread of immigration, mass migration and fears associated with globalization. There are liberals and progressives, socialists and capitalists, Democrats and Republicans—all promising change, all pulling in different directions.

There are vast beliefs and behaviors regarding sexuality and gender. There’s a string of isms—racism, sexism, ageism and classism. A thread of mental illness, substance abuse, food insecurity, homelessness and suicide that runs through every community, regardless of zip code or political affiliation. There's technology—artificial intelligence and algorithms quietly shaping what we see and believe. Entertainment, sports betting, social media. International affairs, foreign wars, trade wars and the low hum of nuclear anxiety that never quite goes away.

Each thread on its own is significant. Complex. Worthy of careful, deliberate attention. Throw them all together—ball them up haphazardly—and you get the knot we see in our country today. The one we feel in our stomachs.

Here's what makes it harder: If you ask Christians from across the country what they think about any single thread—let alone the whole tangled mess—you will get wildly different answers. Christians on every side of every issue will open the same Bible, claim the same Holy Spirit and vehemently disagree with the brother or sister in their very own small group. Some Christians will go further—justifying slander, dismissing churches as heretical and cutting off whole swaths of Christ-followers entirely. 

So, how do we move forward? How do we slow down individually, seek to understand the complexity of each thread collectively and work patiently together to untie the knot in our stomachs, even if our country remains a knotted mess?

Slow down and surrender  

When everything feels knotted up, the impulse is to fix it—fast. Reach for the scissors. Cut something. This is a black-and-white issue that must be solved now! But that gut reaction to simplify, cut or declare something “easy to solve” is often a symptom of something deeper: our need for control.

Take law enforcement agencies, for example. You might believe current law enforcement is 100 percent effective or 100 percent ineffective. And if you can convince yourself—or your neighbors—of this, you feel you have a grip on your world. But honestly, is any institution entirely perfect or entirely corrupt? Are the actions of any law enforcement officer ever all right or all wrong? If you demonize the police today, will you also turn them away when they show up to help in an emergency? These polarizing postures toward complex problems ebb and flow with the political tide, creating the illusion of control while delivering no lasting peace.

Jesus modeled something different. When His public, private and spiritual lives were threatened by sinful men, He didn't ignore it or reach for the scissors. He prayed: Not my will, but Yours be done. He surrendered control of His circumstances to embrace His Father's perspective—not as defeat, but as the pathway to peace within Himself and service to humanity.

One of the strengths of the EFCA is the diversity of people within our movement. In our churches right now, ICE agents and police officers are honoring civil authority and worshipping Jesus next to immigrants who are being dehumanized. Both were made in the image of God. Both are praying for direction and peace. Both are trying to honor Christ in this knotted-up world.

What if we surrendered control over these complex knots to God?  

God, what is Your heart for the immigrant and the law enforcement officer? 

God, how should I respond to this person or policy that seems to contradict what I believe?  

God, I am afraid. Keep me from simplifying or controlling these complex problems. Teach me to love and listen rather than hate and rant. 

At the heart of our faith is a lifetime of choosing to surrender to a suffering Servant. To follow Christ means to surrender your thoughts and your will—not as a loss, but as the only true pathway to personal peace and service to others.

Slow down and learn 

As humans, our default setting is simple: I'm right. Everyone else is wrong. As Christians, we can take it a step further: My interpretation of the Bible is right. Everyone else is a heretic. But what if there isn't always a clean, simple, distinctly “Christian” answer to every cultural question? What if my “right” or “biblical” opinion is a symptom of laziness, where I choose the broad highway of silencing opposing views over the narrow path of learning from differences?

I can already hear the critics: This pastor in Allentown is soft. Maybe even “woke.”

Like you, I embrace one of the greatest strengths of the EFCA: our unwavering commitment to Scripture: 

“…the Bible is without error in the original writings, the complete revelation of God's will for salvation and the ultimate authority by which every realm of human knowledge and endeavor should be judged. It is to be believed in all that it teaches, obeyed in all that it requires, and trusted in all that it promises” (EFCA Statement of Faith, Article 2). 

Indeed, the Bible is crystal clear about the sinful condition of humanity, the provision of the crucified and risen Savior, and salvation that comes by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Our love for Christ and His Word requires unwavering loyalty to matters taught, required and promised. 

But to imply there is a specific candidate or political party that represents “true Christianity” is a gross misunderstanding of orthodox Christianity. The biblical authors never endorse a specific governmental policy but instead command us to promote justice, mercy and humility—and to love fellow Christians despite differences.

Where the Bible speaks, we obey. Where the Bible is silent—and it is silent on more than we'd like to admit—the EFCA has long encouraged believers to study the Bible in community and—guided by the Holy Spirit—make humble, faithful decisions to follow Christ and honor God. 

Which brings me to a practical question that has many Christians in knots: Can a God-exalting, Christ-centered, Spirit-empowered believer who obeys the clear teaching of Scripture be a Democrat? Can that same kind of believer be a Republican? Can Christians be libertarians or independents? Or even abstain from voting altogether?

I had to sit with those questions, personally and pastorally. The knot in my stomach couldn't be ignored, and black-and-white answers sold to me by internet pundits kept failing to deliver peace. So, I started my research—not with Google, but inside my own congregation.

A path to Productive Conversations 

To start, I began asking people—in the right moments, in the right settings—"Who did you vote for in the last election and why?” And people started to share. What I found surprised me.

There were people in my congregation who loved Jesus and voted Democrat. People who loved Jesus and voted Republican. People who loved Jesus and defended immigrants. People who loved Jesus and wanted stronger immigration enforcement. And others who loved both the immigrant and the enforcement of immigration laws. This is not to say, “Anything goes as long as we love Jesus,” but here’s the reality: They read the same Bible and followed the same Christ, yet they arrived at different conclusions on some of the most complex, tangled questions in our society.

To help our congregation slow down and think well during the last presidential election, we created a “Productive Conversation Guide.” We encouraged people to have constructive, curious conversations with those from different backgrounds—the kind that interrupt the reflex toward blanket statements (e.g., "All Democrats are...", "All Republicans are...", etc.).

Remember the frustrated church member during the 2020 election? These conversations helped him lean in and learn from his politically minded friend rather than hit the eject button—and vice versa. Years later, I'm encouraged to watch these two very different men still serving side by side in our church.

These conversations have helped our Guest Services team serve people who attend our church from different backgrounds and who speak different languages. They give our small group leaders the tools to navigate friction without avoiding it, to honor differences without being derailed by them. These conversations do real work in the real world, too. They help a barber engage whoever sits in his chair, a teacher serve every student and a nurse care for each patient—Democrat or Republican, progressive or conservative—with the grace and truth of Jesus.

Both grace and truth are essential ingredients to our Christian life and witness. And protecting the unity of God’s family against the divisiveness of partisanship is itself a witness to the radical love of Jesus.

This, again, is a strength of the EFCA. We are biblical and missional, united and free. Anchored in Scripture and on mission to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). United in the same churches. Growing in the same small groups. Obeying the same Bible. And embracing the freedom of believers to think differently on matters of biblical silence. In the EFCA, I have experienced a movement of diverse Christ-followers who lovingly debate and humbly disagree on the most complex knots.

Maybe the most honest thing we can do is recognize our limitations and seek to learn from those who are different from us. Talk to the person next to you. Maybe you’ll discover that not everyone thinks, acts or votes the way you do—and yet, they love the same Jesus, trust the same Scriptures and are trying to faithfully follow same God in this knotted-up world. You’ll realize that most people are on a journey to understand, and they don’t have all the answers, either.

Perhaps your authentic conversation will challenge mutual growth toward a Christ-honoring lifestyle. If you take this challenge to slow down and learn from real people, rather than internet caricatures supplied by your algorithm, the knot in your stomach may just subside.

Slow down and serve  

The last shift in how we handle knots has everything to do with how we see people—not as physical, emotional or political problems to fix or eliminate, but as eternal image bearers who will live either with God or apart from Him forever. That one change in perspective completely rewires my attitudes and actions. 

It's why Jesus didn't overthrow the Roman government or dismantle the economic systems of His day. He advanced a different kingdom entirely, loving and serving everyone He encountered with grace and truth. No exceptions. No preconditions.

Maybe the reason so many Christians feel knotted up right now is that we've been fighting for a physical kingdom at the expense of an eternal one. When I remind myself that every person—regardless of what she/he thinks, votes or does—is made in the image of God, every person becomes worthy of my respect and worthy of hearing the good news of Jesus. But when I reduce people to a problem to ignore or a threat to cut out, I move fast to dismiss, cancel and write off. I may have cut out the knot, but in doing so, I also lose the opportunity to share the love of Jesus with a soul that will never die! 

James offers us this emphatic command without conditions: “Christ follower! Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry” (Jas 1:19, emphasis mine). When I see someone as a policy position or a political obstacle, I can justify tuning them out, talking over them or staying angry. But when I see a person with an eternal soul—someone Christ died for—something shifts. My ears open, my critique slows, and my curiosity quickens. Anger gives way to compassion. 

To help our church family during these knotted-up times, our worship team wrote a song that reminds us of the supremacy of the Kingdom of God over the kingdom of now. You can listen to the song on Spotify or Apple Music. Here’s what the chorus declares:

These lyrics remind our church what we are seeking—the Kingdom of God established by the sacrifice of Christ, where everyone is invited into His family. And our role in the advancement of this Kingdom is simple: Be gentle and humble, be patient and joyful, toward everyone.

As God's sons and daughters, we are called to serve everyone—no exceptions—in the hope they might see Jesus in us and, by faith in Christ, join the family of God forever. To the praise of His glory. 

Jesus understands knots 

Jesus understands our humanity. He came to usher in the Kingdom of God by seeking and saving lost people, and He felt the weight of this responsibility. On His final journey to Jerusalem, His stomach was in knots:

“He looked out over the city He loved and wept: ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes’” (Luke 19:41-42). 

He saw the tangled and fractured mess of people's private, public and spiritual lives. He had the power to undo every knot in an instant—and He chose, instead, to secure something no earthly revolution could ever produce: an eternal kingdom. Jesus saw things clearly. He loved unconditionally. And yet the knot in His country remained.

His sacrificial death, His victorious resurrection and His sovereign ascension to the right hand of God secure for us the promise that this is not the end of the story. One day He will return and undo every knot. Every injustice untangled. Every fracture healed. Every tear dried. Until then, we live in the tension.

When we choose to surrender control—when we approach the complexity of our moment with humble curiosity rather than hardened certainty—when we choose to see the person standing in front of us rather than the political position they represent—something shifts. The knot in our stomach loosens. And we become what we were always meant to be: ambassadors of a kingdom where peace, love and justice reign together, forever.

Jesus is coming back to finish what He started. Until He does, we get to live—and love—as people of faith, not sight.