The Phone Call Getting My Church Through Trump 2.0

These first few weeks of President Donald Trump’s administration have already been grueling, with a blizzard of executive orders that run the gamut from trolling to hurtful to alarming. We all remember this feeling from the last time around — there are so many shiny objects of outrage for us to chase that after a little while it’s easy to just throw up our hands, admit defeat, and decide to wait out the maelstrom by streaming our favorite television series. So many people are hurt and scared; many are just exhausted.

During Trump’s inauguration in 2017, many responded by attending one of the hundreds of Women’s Marches around the country. Those who participated in these marches set the record for the largest single-day protest in United States history. During Trump’s inauguration this January, the protesters were sparse. It’s easy to feel isolated, alone, and hopeless.

For us to get through Trump 2.0 together, we need to figure out new ways to organize. As is becoming increasingly clear, we’re currently living through a time when all three branches of government — the courts, congress, and the executive branch — are devoting massive amounts of energy to weaponizing the forces of government against people they deem to be unworthy of protection. Writer and organizer Dean Spade argues that we need to give up the fantasy that we can reform government to the point where it will save us. Instead, Spade argues that we should focus on direct action to support one another. He writes, “Now is the moment to turn toward the most solid thing we actually have — each other.” Instead of hoping that the next election will fix our problems, we can use the institutions we’re a part of to build supportive connections that directly impact the lives of targeted groups and individuals.

After the election, I spent a few days walking around in a daze, as I’m sure many of you did. Then I started thinking about what I could do to help. So many of the ideas I had felt too daunting and unlikely to make much of a difference. But I started asking myself the following line of questions: What would it look like if I focused the next few years on figuring out how I could support the most vulnerable people among us? Who are the people most likely to find themselves under attack over the next few years? How can I aid people who are already doing justice work?

I had some familiarity with a group called the Michigan Organization on Adolescent Sexual Health through the work they’ve done in my kids’ schools. MOASH provides training and resources to schools in Michigan on supporting LGBTQ+ youth, helps workplaces create more supportive environments, and advocates for LGBTQ+ rights at the state level.

It took me a few days to gather the courage, but eventually I got contact information from their website and reached out, asking what I could do as a person of faith to help their efforts. I was afraid I’d be dismissed as an unserious ally, someone trying to parachute into the middle of the work they’ve been doing for decades. Instead, they were thrilled to brainstorm with me about ways I could use my connections with the church to help them in their mission.

One of the greatest dangers of this moment of chaos, disruption, and destruction is that we often feel isolated, doubtful that the world needs the time and talents we have to offer. A powerful way to put that feeling aside is to work to build connections, not just between individuals, but between organizations.

MOASH invited me to help with programming for LGBTQ+ youth of faith and their parents. Currently, I’m working with them to develop training and conversation sessions for local churches. While we are still developing this training, the hope is that it can serve to help families navigate difficult times and open avenues for empathy within the church. When I discussed the possibility of partnering with MOASH at my local church, my pastor responded by putting two arms in the air and saying, “Hallelujah.”

For many of us, our home church is the epicenter of our volunteer and activist work. It’s where we give our time and talents to making our community a better place. But in order to actually make our community better, we need to build connections with other partners outside of the church. These partnerships can help us connect more closely with the communities we really need to be working with: vulnerable populations who are under threat, but whom we aren’t always sure how to reach.

Over the next four years (at least), the threats to LGBTQ+ people, people of color, immigrants, and a host of other people from marginalized backgrounds are likely to be direct and painful, often impacting basic needs. While changing policy is important, we’ll need to focus some of our energy on more tangible forms of help. This means doing more than giving to our churches’ peace and justice funds or offering monetary donations to our cherished political causes or institutions. Continue to donate to those if you feel called, but also work to make a direct, immediate impact in your community.

Working with people beyond our church walls can be scary. But as Rev. Lindsey Joyce explains, “Churches that engage in organizing can be particularly transformational, as members work with those outside the doors of the church to advocate for justice. By the church affirming that justice can happen even outside its doors, it affirms that the struggle for liberation is something that everyone — Christian or not — can participate in.” This view asks us to give up on the idea that the only good things in the world come through the Christian church. But this view also mobilizes us to find common cause with people of any faith, or no faith, who share the same values of supporting people in need.

Secular organizations and activists are willing to work with churches toward struggling for liberation, but they are often unsure how to go about it. For those outside the church, it can be daunting to figure out which churches support social justice issues or embrace LGBTQ+ people beyond simply flying a flag outside their building. Since the hostile voices in Christianity have been so loud over the last few decades, they’re what people most associate with Christianity. That means it’s incumbent on those of us inside the church to reach out and make our support known.

When I started thinking about reaching out to MOASH, honestly my first feeling was embarrassment: I was embarrassed that I hadn’t reached out to them sooner, embarrassed that I was jumping on this train so late after others had been working on these projects much longer. I could only think of the workers in the vineyard, and how those who started working later in the day were still given a day’s wage (Matthew 20:8-16). Just because we are sometimes late in doing the right thing doesn’t mean we should let our guilt stop us — even if we are late to the party.

Part of our work over the next few years needs to be taking intentional steps to combat feelings of isolation and explore what it really looks like when we build connections with one another and stand together. The government’s not going to save us, and we cannot save ourselves, but we can work together to stand with those who are under attack.