Saturday afternoon I stood in line four hours in order to cast my absentee ballot. I will be working the polls on Tuesday and therefor had to forgo my usual practice of voting on election day. As the long line slowly snaked its way into the building, it quickly became apparent that a large number of the people surrounding me were voting for “the other guy” as evidenced by their welcoming of the offered stickers with his picture and the enthusiasm for certain campaign volunteers with free pizza. (Ok, so I would’ve taken some too if I’d been hungry.)
Finding my immediate line neighbors not interested in chatting, I spent the hours alone with my own thoughts, accompanied for an interlude of time by my mp3 player, with plenty more time to observe the people and chatter around me.
By the time the open door of the voting room came into view, I was more than a little footsore, and feeling both depressed and frustrated over the worldview of my hundreds of fellow citizens packed in the winding rows. Although my information was surface level at best, I was just a little worried that if this was any indication of the rest of populace, our country might see a very grim day indeed. Didn’t they realize what kind of person they were voting for? Didn’t they care? Didn’t they understand what they were choosing?
Steady chit-chat broke out between me and a few of my line neighbors as the end drew closer. Our discussion turned to one of the issues we’re voting on in Ohio. I didn’t say much other than actively listening and adding casual comments, but it was an amiable and light-hearted conversation that brought some much needed laughter, as well as exposing some obvious differences.
“You’re voting for McCain aren’t you” said the man next to me, more as a statement than a question. I nodded with a bemused smile and twinkle in my eye. “MmmHmm”. No need to ask who his vote was going for. I dug in my purse for gum and we both set to work on a piece of spearmint. (Apparently gum is non-partisan also.)
At last my turn had come; my ballot was handed over and I quickly fulfilled my American mission with a ballpoint pen on the appropriate ovals of choice. Sealed and dropped in the big silver bin, I made a hasty departure home.
I spent the rest of the evening at a special veterans event at a local church. During the start of the program we sang several patriotic numbers, including “My Country ‘ Tis of Thee”. As I sang the words of the last verse, the swirling thoughts of the day came filtering through a different light.
Our father’s God to, Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright
With freedom’s holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!
In my frustration of the politically charged afternoon, I had overlooked one very important thing.
Great God, our King.
If I am afraid and worried about one man becoming President, my hope is not in the right place. If I am convinced that one man means disaster and the other escape thereof, my trust is feebly placed. Our freedom, our rights, the gift of life – though upheld by men, are ultimately not given or protected by human hands, but by God’s. He is the one who has allowed freedom’s light to shine so bright from this land.
While concern IS warranted, action our duty, and this election vitally important (with prayer much needed), our security in this life does not remain with the leadership of any one man, but with the God of the Universe.
How thankful I am that His power is not limited or changed by who sits behind that desk in the Oval Office.
