We’re days away from the most important election of our lives.

At least that’s what we’re told.

On Election Day, I’ll be 48 years old. By my count, this is about the 7th or 8th time in my adult life that I’ve been told, “This is the most important election of your lifetime.” I guess it’s at least theoretically possible that I’m living in a time of escalating political importance and each vote I cast is indeed the most important one so far.

But I also can’t help but think that all of this propaganda is destroying our souls.

Look, I have some strong feelings about this election. I’m probably a lot like you: I have a couple of issues that are really important to me and those issues will determine the direction of my vote on Tuesday. I’m of the opinion that we have been given some tremendous freedoms in this country and I feel an obligation to steward my vote in a way that reflects my personal values as a citizen of the United States and, more importantly, as a follower of Christ. I also think of my mother, nine months pregnant and a couple of days past her due date on November 2, 1976. She fulfilled her civic duty by voting early that morning — and by that evening, she had given birth to a healthy baby boy (yours truly). If my Mom could go out and vote before giving birth to me, I’m thinking I want to follow in her footsteps and steward my vote responsibly as well.

So with that being said, I find myself returning to a simple thought in these final days before the election. It’s a thought that helps with the pervading anxiety accompanying this election, one that cuts through all the gloom and doom prognosticating that corresponds to a high-stakes election. What will happen if he / she wins? How will the country survive? How will we make it through his / her administration? Such thoughts are surely dominating our minds these days.

The thought I return to is really a question: What do I consider to be essential?

Is it essential for my candidate to win?

Is it absolutely essential for my side to prevail, for my views to carry the day?

Is victory for my side essential to stave off the end of democracy? To preserve the republic? To stem the tide of the inevitable apocalyptic meltdown if the other side wins the day?

I’m thinking it’s not.

As I try to follow Jesus in these days, I’m reminded of what Paul says repeatedly throughout his letters: the matters of first importance — Christ crucified, buried, and raised — are truly essential. Everything else — and I mean everything — is ordered around this principle.

And that eternal truth changes my perspective. It affords me a reprieve from the anxiety-inducing talking heads. It offers language which transcends the divisiveness of our political discourse precisely because it is grounded in an eternal kingdom of peace. If I believe what I say I believe, then that peace serves as a guide. That peace controls my response when one side labels the other as “fascist” or “garbage” or this or that. The promise of an eternal kingdom offers an unshakeable hope whenever the siren song of despair fills my ear and my heart. And that hope floods my heart like light from a far distant shore, permeating the darkness and her seductive cries of death.

And I believe that whenever this is modeled, the world takes notice, because the world has always taken notice of this hopeful witness which points to a kingdom not of this world. This is just as true today as it was two thousand years ago when the gospel began to turn the world upside down.

Acts 17:6-8

And when they could not find them, they dragged Jason and some of the brothers before the city authorities, shouting, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also, and Jason has received them, and they are all acting against the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus.” And the people and the city authorities were disturbed when they heard these things.

The great irony is that the truth that disturbs the world is the same truth that gives us eternal peace.

There is another king.

Not Caesar.

But Jesus.

This — and nothing else — is essential.

May God be with us all.