I haven’t been surprised by the expressions of mounting tension as we get closer and closer to Election Day. What has surprised me is the expression of tension and anxiety shared with me by people at Old South who have never spoken up in the past about their political leanings or their practices when voting. This season, they are feeling decidedly on edge, stressed, and frightened by what may happen on Election Day, and what that may usher into existence.

The people who have shared their fear and anxiety are not concerned about what used to be some of the normal dividing points between the major political parties— healthcare, social security, economic policies, etc. These are people who are fearful of what may happen to how they live their normal, everyday lives, or how their loved ones, family and/or friends, will be able to live their lives.

Among my faithful church-going people, there is a sense of disconnection between their experience of faith, the lessons of the faith, and the rhetoric of exclusion and degradation that has become not only a common language of one of the main candidates for president, but a language and perspective that appears clearly to be shared by many who claim to hold the same faith as those who are part of Old South. How can there be such a difference between and among those who claim to follow Jesus Christ?

Especially for those in the LBGTQ+ community, along with their family and friends, the fear is building. A sense of hopelessness if looming. Not only is there edginess about what may come from the election, but a profound sense of disquiet that we are here at all, that the ugly language dismissing any humanity from those who seem different is so present in the political landscape. How did we get here? And why?

It feels like we’ve somehow become one giant elementary school playground, where a few bullies have been able to take charge (well, one bully, and his dangerous minions), bringing with them those who just want to make sure they do not become the brunt of the scorn of the powerful. Better to play along with the bullies than to become fodder for their malice and cruelty. It’s all too simple to pick on the easy targets, those who are small in number and power, and are just different enough from the larger group to mock and paint as less worthy of respect and dignity, as well as the basic freedoms the rest of us enjoy in the United States.

For those who already feel vulnerable, on the margins of society, the possibility of still more vulnerability and actual threats to their ability to simply to live their lives— not only posing not one bit of harm to anyone, but usually providing the opposite through care and concern for others— is a lot to bear. Trying to figure out why people who claim to share the same faith are itching to destroy the little bit of security that has come from major shifts in law, policy and culture, is disheartening, even crushing.

One of the clearest of the lessons that Jesus taught was the Golden Rule: “Therefore, you should treat people in the same way that you want people to treat you; this is the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 7:12, CEB) That this is not the guiding theme of all people who declare themselves driven by the Christian faith is both mind-boggling and profoundly distressing. There’s a feeling of edginess, to be sure, and a sense that the edginess will remain, no matter who wins on Tuesday. Either the malice will take its place of power, or it will remain where it is, in the hearts and minds of many Christians who seem unwavering in their desire to live the faith untethered to one of its most basic tenets.