Our primary allegiance is to the way, the truth and the life of Jesus.

In Oregon we vote by mail. A couple of weeks before the election, we receive our ballots and a big, thick “Election Guide” to help us make rational, informed decisions. In the weeks before an election we can also look forward to political attack ads, self-serving TV commercials and probably a little fear-mongering to boot. And if that’s not enough, there will be the ongoing stories in the media about lobbying scandals and congressional misconduct. In other words, politics as usual.
Jesus lived with the same thing (though he probably never heard of “Swift Boating”). On the way to Jerusalem, the seat of power, two of his closest aides, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him and said: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you. … Grant us to sit one at your right hand and one at your left in your glory” (Mark 10:35, 37).

Like well-connected insiders, they had been with Jesus from the start and had supported him in all the outlying precincts. Now they wanted a seat at the table. That’s how it works. They had seen his rising star. They knew his ability to work the crowds and his knack for creating something from nothing. They were betting on a winner. He was going to the top, and they wanted to be right there with him—throwing out the Romans and setting up a new administration. Things would be different this time.

Naturally, the other 10 disciples were upset. Not because James and John had fundamentally misunderstood what Jesus meant but because they had made a Machiavellian power-grab, and the others were afraid of being left out. All of them believed the new world Jesus was talking about would be just like the old, only with better people in power.

But that is just more politics as usual. Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking” (Mark 10.38). It is not just that they finished the sentence wrong (“when we are in charge … we’ll reform programs, institute better policies, set right priorities”); the whole sentence is wrong. The notion that we are in charge is wrong.

Jesus said to them—and says to us still—that we are not in charge. In God’s kingdom, God is in charge and has a different, even odd, way of doing things. God created the world and watched us run off our own way, set up our own kingdoms and make an utter hash of it all. God will bring the world back, Jesus promises, not by the power of coercion, intimidation, violence or manipulation but by the power of the cross—the self-giving, redemptive love of Christ.

Jesus went to Jerusalem knowing what he was walking into. He was the ultimate political realist. In the shadow of power he said his followers: “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them” (Mark 10.42). That is the way it has always worked in all our kingdoms and countries.

But that is not the way God works. In God’s kingdom, “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant” (10.43). For Jesus there is no seat of power for lording it over others, only a towel and basin for a life of service.

That is why they killed him. Not just because he had different ideas about administering the Middle East or different budget priorities for Jerusalem but because he embodied a whole new way of living that fundamentally threatened the powers-that-be. When he got to Jerusalem, the rulers lorded it over him. They plotted against him, arrested and tortured him.

Even in that confrontation with the powers, Jesus embodied a new way—he lived without fear, spoke the truth and he refused to respond to violence in kind.

On Good Friday the powers-that-be killed him, but on Easter Sunday the power of God’s love raised him to new life. Ever since, we have been invited to follow Christ in this new way of living—the way of love instead of fear, the way of truth instead of self-serving deception, the way of shalom instead of coercion, intimidation and violence.

We are invited to follow the way of Jesus even when we open our ballot and vote. His response to politics as usual should guide our response. First, he lived without fear. Fear is at the heart of most political rhetoric. Fear is a primary motivator of people on both the left and right—fear of terrorism and immigration, fear of too much or too little government, fear of staying the course or “cutting and running.” I do not want to vote for or against what I am supposed to be afraid of. As a follower of Jesus, I want to vote for what is good, hopeful and possible.

Second, Jesus spoke the truth; even more, he embodied the truth. When I vote, I want to look at the ballot in the light of Christ’s life. Where do I see his kind of grace, compassion and hope? Where do I see his commitment to life that is meaningful, true and just? Where do I see his concern “for the least of these”—people who are hungry, have limited access to medical care, are without decent housing, are vulnerable and poor?

Third, Jesus refused to respond to violence with violence. I have no illusion that the government will ever become pacifist. We are pacifist because of our faith in Jesus. No one can coerce that kind of belief. And apart from that kind of belief in Christ, one cannot expect the ethics of Christ. But the biblical vision of shalom guides us still. So I am voting for candidates or measures that bend toward God’s just peace, work for reconciliation and value neighbors, strangers and even enemies.

However we vote on Nov. 4, though, our hope does not lie with the results that will be reported on Nov. 5. Who wins will make a difference, but any candidate is only incrementally better than the other. In the end, politics as usual will always demand ultimate loyalty and defend itself with violence. Both of those are fundamentally anti-gospel.

Chris Roberts put it this way in the last election cycle in an editorial in The Other Side: “The fact is, no matter who wins the election, Christians will still be in the opposition. None of the major candidates seriously challenges the U.S. commitment to an economy rooted in consumerism, rampant individualism and a sense of entitlement. Nobody in this campaign seems to entertain forgiveness and self-sacrifice as a national foreign policy.”

Our primary allegiance is to the way, the truth and life of Jesus. So vote on Nov. 4. More importantly, vote everyday. Vote with a basin and towel and a life of service. Vote with a cup of cold water, food for the hungry and homes for the displaced. Vote with words of forgiveness and a commitment to integrity. Vote with your life.

Rod Stafford is lead pastor of Portland (Ore.) Mennonite Church. This article is drawn from a sermon preached prior to the general election in 2006.