I sat with members of my church as we planned how we might love our neighbors in our little section of West Philadelphia. 

My church is no stranger to political engagement. We have developed a conviction that we cannot be apolitical in the face of the oppression and harm facing our neighbors near and far. 

During Sunday morning worship, one of our attenders encouraged us to vote in a local election and pay particular attention to the questions on our ballot.

I asked how she wanted us to answer those questions. Politically engaged as I am, I hadn’t researched the ballot questions and sought advice to translate the legaleze. 

She declined to offer a specific answer, perhaps because she felt uncomfortable being so politically explicit in church. I shared at our meeting that I, too, had hesitations about political engagement.

I am uncomfortable voting, let alone endorsing a candidate or a position. I fancy myself a faithful Anabaptist, and our tradition of nonresistance convicts me — even as I vote every year. I see it as a practical necessity but one that is far from holy and distant from the God-given convictions I have about the world. 

Voting almost feels like a concession. I do it because I want to alleviate as much suffering as I can, even though I wish I didn’t have to engage in a compromise of my ethics. 

I wish I didn’t have to engage with the state at all. But I need to set aside my feelings for what I consider to be the greater good.

My interlocutors were surprised I held such a “conservative” position. After all, I’ve spoken publicly about the evils of the Trump administration, genocide in Gaza and local matters ranging from migrant rights to affordable housing. 

Readers of this column might share their befuddlement. 

But I engage in politics and speak up not because I’m comfortable doing so but because Jesus doesn’t give me a choice. I am called to love my neighbor, and that means taking a side with them. 

If my theological convictions keep me from loving my neighbors in the most basic and practical ways, then my beliefs are nothing more than a resounding gong. My beliefs must be matched by love, and I think love means political action.

Three years ago I wrote Jesus Takes a Side, rooted in my conviction that it was time for Christians to set aside any theological conviction that kept them from acting politically and join in a global coalition resisting the evils that surround us. 

I started writing in the face of White supremacist actions all over the country, draconian treatment of migrants and the hatred and bigotry the Trump administration normalized. 

No longer were we debating moderate Democratic and Republican healthcare policies. The Trump administration distanced us from the interesting but less materially meaningful debates of Mitt Romney and Barack Obama. Our discourse changed from disagreements about partisan policy to disagreements about basic Christian morality.

The evils around us are obvious to anyone with a softened heart. There is no Christian controversy when it comes to the fact that it is immoral to kidnap and abduct migrants from worship services. It is wrong to enact policies that rid trans people of their health care, leading to their increased suicidality. There is no moral cause worth starving Palestinian children. The virtues of diversity, equity and inclusion are still Christian ones.

Many readers of this column would no doubt agree with me. My exhortation is not just to agree in your mind but to do something about it. The call to love our neighbors must be expressed politically. 

The discomfort with political action that many Anabaptists feel is normal, and I share it. But it is worth being uncomfortable for the sake of caring for and loving the least of these who surround us. 

It is time to reimagine our theology and politics if they are keeping us from engaging practically and politically to alleviate suffering. Jesus engaged politically to love his neighbor and suffered the ultimate consequence: execution at the hands of the state. Followers of Jesus must be prepared to suffer, too. 

We must take the side of the oppressed, who are threatened, intimidated, harmed, starved and even killed. Taking a side, three years after I wrote Jesus Takes a Side, is still what Christians should do in the face of the Christofascist nationalism that threatens to eclipse and speak for our faith.