The Trump administration is crushing liberal hopes and dreams. For example, Frank Bruni, a New York Times columnist and journalism professor at Duke, recently pondered how this graduation season’s batch of commencement speakers will deliver their usual uplifting, cheery pablum amidst the “darkness” of Trump’s America.
“It’s a hell of a thing to be surrounded by college seniors a month away from heading out into this new America, a land of malice and madness. My fellow professors and I are supposed to have nuggets of optimism at the ready,” he wrote. “But all I’ve got is the metastasizing pit of fear in my own gut.”
Those of us on the right may be tempted to respond by gloating, by mocking Bruni and his worried students, or by recapitulating our many grievances against liberalism. We would have plenty of material — from the corporate media’s efforts to hide Biden’s senility to the left’s devotion to atrocities such as late-term abortion on demand and medically “transitioning” children.
But an airing of grievances, though sometimes necessary (even Bruni mentions the shortcomings of the “self-impressed class of Americans” of which he is a part), will not give hope to anyone. Furthermore, those of us who have been conservative for a while can sympathize with the despair of liberal students. We know what it feels like to be on the losing side, and to think that the world is going to hell in a handbasket.
Of course, we see liberalism as a contributor to, rather than the cure of, said handbasket’s trajectory. But our answer to depressed left-liberal students looking for hope should not be primarily political. Rather, we should tell them that if Trump’s election has destroyed their hope, then they put their hope in the wrong place.
Yes, we think that the left’s political and cultural beliefs and programs are wrong, but many of us know that even the best politics will not and cannot provide the fullness of hope we need. Politics matters, of course, but a hope based in politics, regardless of right or left, will always disappoint. All the social justice dreams of the left, or all the MAGA schemes of Trump’s most ardent fans, cannot save us from despair, because politics cannot cure what ails us.
It may seem sensible to hope in politics. After all, politics is about power, and it is tempting to believe that power can fix the world’s problems. In some cases, it can ameliorate matters. But our fundamental problem is not politics, it is sinful hearts. And dealing with our selfish, sinful natures isn’t a matter of votes or laws or court rulings, but of repentance, starting with oneself. A people given over to wickedness will ruin even the best political system. Nor can we vote our way to righteousness; politics cannot make us love our neighbors as ourselves.
From newly minted college Marxists to MAGA social media, many of those who are investing their hearts and hopes in politics are looking for things that politics cannot give to them. Politics will never love them back, and the things that politics can sometimes deliver, such as vengeance and a sense of triumph over one’s perceived enemies, are hardly the foundations of lasting personal happiness, living the good life, and building a flourishing society.
Those who trust in politics will be distraught when the political winds turn against them, even if little to nothing changes in their day-to-day lives. Their current despair — despite comfort, freedom, and privilege — illuminates how hopelessness is a spiritual malady afflicting those who have misplaced their trust.
Yes, this world is full of troubles, but this is not a reason to abandon hope, for we may still live well despite decadence, injustice, and hardship. Living well is about love and relationships, truth and beauty. We may find joy in friendship even in hard times, delight in our children even in a decadent age, and love our spouse even in a time of political injustice. We may learn from the great thinkers of the past, relish a good novel, and marvel at a Turner painting or Bach composition. We may strum out some chords and sing a hymn with our congregation, despite the darkness of the world outside. Indeed, these deeds, relationships, and moments are the seeds of light that will be the source of renewal. If you want hope, love your family and friends — and go to church this Sunday.
It is often possible to not only survive, but to be happy and find purpose in dark times. Bruni seems to have some understanding of this. But we must also remember this life is not the end — there is still a sure hope that endures beyond the circles and tides of this world and its powers. In this graduation season, whether you are MAGA or Marxist, take your eyes off the kingdoms of this world and look to the One whose kingdom is not of this world, the Ruler who stepped down from a heavenly throne to serve and suffer on Earth, and thereby give us an imperishable hope.
Nathanael Blake is a senior contributor to The Federalist and a fellow in the Life and Family Initiative at the Ethics and Public Policy Center.
Jesus Christ is King
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