A fascinating phenomenon of the era in which we’re living…

is the level of support for Donald Trump from white, Evangelical Christians.

When he was elected president in two thousand sixteen…

more than eighty percent of them voted for him.

And that, despite the character of the man.

As you may recall…

there were recordings of him bragging about sexually assaulting women;

he boasted about his physical attributes during a televised debate;

and he allegedly arranged a sizeable payoff to hush a porn star with whom he had an affair—

shortly after his current wife had their baby.

And yet, Evangelical Christians overwhelmingly voted for him.

And now, having been found guilty of sexual assault and defamation in civil trials…

and facing criminal charges for business fraud…

and his attempts to overturn the last election…

Evangelical Christians still overwhelmingly endorse him.

 

Some commentators, of course, have simply dismissed this support as hypocrisy…

or simply evidence of wanton moral compromise.

I’m not so sure.

In part, their support is driven by fear—

fear of what another “liberal” president might do…

specifically in terms of judicial appointments…

and social legislation.

And, in part, it is driven by Trump’s support for what have become foundational…

boundary-forming…

and identity-defining issues for them…

namely…

opposition to gay, lesbian, and especially transgender rights…

anti-wokeness…

and opposition to abortion and reproductive rights.

Robert Wuthnow—

Emeritus Professor of Sociology at Princeton University—

suggests that American religious conservatives want to live in a community with inviolable boundaries;

they want to be protected from a world that they perceive as filled with threatening evils.

So, they will grasp at any issue that comes along…

if it offers a chance to construct walls that keep out the frightening, evil world…

and offer them a perception of safety.

As one journalist described the Evangelical mindset, “The barbarians are at the gates, and we need a barbarian to keep them at bay”.

Backing up that argument is some research in neurobiology.

A major study a few years back—

published by researchers from the University of London—

identified significant differences in the brains of liberals and conservatives.

Apparently, the researchers found:

that liberals had a larger region of the brain associated with decision-making;

while conservatives had a larger region of the brain associated with “emotional learning”…

and, specifically, with the processing of fear.

Their study suggests that conservatives are more attuned at recognising threats…

and are more prone to respond to, and with, fear.

In other words, then, religious conservatives are people driven by fear—

the fear of ambiguity and the fear of intellectual relativity—

and desperately in search of certainty.

 

In varying degrees, though, isn’t that something of a common human tendency?

 

Amid the alienation and ambiguity…

the change and confusion…

the upheaval and unrest of our ever-evolving world…

in varying ways and to a varying extent…

we all long for some clear boundaries.

We all yearn for some sense of certainty—

some anchoring absolutes in a surging sea of ambiguity and relativity.

In our own way, we all do it, don’t we…especially as we get older?

In our ever-changing, potentially frightening world…

we crave certainty and security…

so often driven by fear.

In varying ways and to a varying extent…

we cling to the familiar, the comfortable, and the safe—

even if it’s outdated, illogical, or impractical…

even if there’s a better way.

It might be holding on to some old, treasured gadget—

like a non-smartphone or an older computer…

because you’re afraid to upgrade…

because you won’t know where anything is or even how it will work.

It might be staying in your own home…

even though your children have long gone…

and it’s far too big for your current needs…

and it takes far too long and too much effort to clean…

and, honestly, it probably isn’t safe and causes your family all sorts of worries…

but it’s comfortable and familiar…

and it’s filled with treasured memories even if it isn’t practical.

Or it might be the fundamentally safe and comfortable way that we approach and express our religiosity—

clinging to practices and ways of being…

which might have worked in the past…

but which have become somewhat impractical…

or unsuitable…

for the changed circumstances that we now face.

And yet, we like things the way that they are…

because they’re safe…

and familiar…

and comfortable…

and known.

And, in many churches, we find people saying that they’re willing to change…

in order to bring more people in…

but only if it’s safe…

only if they can keep it under control…

only if it doesn’t affect what is most precious to them.

Which means, deep down, that they’re not really willing to change.

Faced with a fearful future…

so often…

subtly, even sub-consciously… 

we take steps to ensure the status quo.

 

It’s a fundamental fact of life:

most of us will stick with the known rather than choose the unknown.

Driven by fear and uncertainty, we opt for what is safe— 

even if it’s boring and unfulfilling—

rather than take a risk.

We cling to the old, the tired, and the worn-out— 

rather than try something new.

We keep on repeating past mistakes—

rather than learn a new way.

We frequently choose what’s comfortable—

rather than what is right.

We might stay in an unhealthy relationship, 

rather than risk being alone.

We might remain in a bad situation—

rather than risk one that could be worse.

So often, we choose a form of social or personal death— 

rather than embrace the risks of living.

 

And yet… 

it’s also a fundamental fact of life…

and one that, in our heart of hearts, we all know—

that growth only comes through change.

We only learn by taking a risk.

We only discover freedom by letting go—

by letting go of the fear…

and the almost instinctive need for security.

We only truly live by dying.

Indeed, we so often see or hear of people who—

having been told that they have a terminal illness—

suddenly let go…

and do all of the things that they have always secretly wanted to do…

but time…

money…

and the pressures of family, work, and life have prevented them from doing.

After all… 

in a very real sense…

it's only when you’re ready to die…

that you’re truly ready to live.

It’s a fundamental fact of life—

something that the author of John’s Gospel recognises…

and something, symbolically, that stands at the very heart…

at the very core…

of the story of Jesus—

that it’s only through death… 

that the possibility of new and abundant life can come to fruition.

 

And it’s only when we let go of our fears and our need for certainty…

it’s only when we embrace ambiguity…

doubt…

change…

and, seemingly, death…

that we can be fully and authentically human…

and that we can experience the life that God intends for us:

“Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”.