“The true Christian does not hunger and thirst for his own political party to get into power.”
I was reading those words the day after the presidential election. They are from the pen of Charles Spurgeon, the prince among 19th-century English preachers.
I immediately thought about how often I had delved into the news about the presidential race during the past few weeks, like a puppy dog whose anxious ears perk up when its owner enters the room. How many newspaper columns had I read about the election, and despite alarming forecasts, why did I still keep reading?
The news leading up to the election was both enticing and repelling; I wanted to know but only sometimes liked what I read and heard. Eventually, I distanced myself from certain social media sites because I knew what they would say, and I read others for the same reason. I was giving the news permission to determine my emotions.
After the election, the vitriol on social media continued. People were still hurling incendiary remarks back and forth, some of whom, despite professing the same Lord, exchanging harmful, poisonous barbs.
Spurgeon’s comment, spoken over a century ago, has that ring of timelessness and speaks to us today, regardless of what side of the political divide one may stand.
Though he doesn’t mention the Kingdom of God in this statement, he alludes to it, for the Kingdom was central to Christ’s mission and, therefore, to his followers. His Kingdom signified his reign or rule; it’s the place where his righteousness prevails. He promised that when we seek the Kingdom, we find it, and by His grace, we are satisfied. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled” (Matthew 5:6).
Whenever I’m hungry or thirsty, that’s all I can think of. If I haven’t eaten for a few hours, all varieties of cuisine appeal to me. I whiff Mexican food a mile from the restaurant as I drive towards it. I sense Italian food, maybe pizza baking, as though I’m in the heart of Rome. And somewhere in my neighborhood, someone is grilling something: it must be a juicy steak or hamburger. I think about food when I can’t have it.
When I played football, coaches mistakenly thought withholding water in 90-plus-degree weather would make us tougher. Finally, the team managers would bring out water bottles, and we would practically fall on our knees in gratitude. Drinking water consumed our thinking until we had it.
We forget that we receive the Kingdom and its righteousness only by God’s grace. Without it, we are anxious and discontent. We imagine that if we can only muster enough votes, we can do it: we can make everything right. We will no longer need to fear. And when it doesn’t happen, we become as fickle as the crowd of people who hailed Jesus as king with palm branches one day and nailed him to a cross a few days later.
And so, I pondered Spurgeon’s words the day after the presidential election.
What am I hungry for today? Does it affect my life direction, decisions, thoughts, and actions? For what am I really thirsty? Do I search for it with the intensity of someone probing for water in the desert? Am I thinking about it like someone who hasn’t eaten in days? What consumes me today? Is it God and his Kingdom?
When it is, when that’s what drives us more than any physical food or drink, more than the election of officials who are here and gone in a few years, when the Kingdom’s righteousness is the driving force of our lives, then we will have received something much more valuable and eternally greater than any earthly election can promise.
So, when we open our hearts to the Kingdom’s righteousness, it’s a time for celebration, even dancing and singing, (if only within our heart) even TODAY, for the Kingdom of God has come.