I’m trying to have real, productive talks with people about the political mess we’re in. We’re more divided than ever, and I’m convinced most of this split is cooked up on purpose. I don’t see much point in treating politics like a fantasy football league, but for some reason, I’m in the minority on that.
One line that always smacks me like a pool ball in a sock is when people say God picked Trump. Good folks—people I’ve known forever, way before Trump even thought about running—tell me God works in mysterious ways. They argue it doesn’t matter if I can’t wrap my head around Trump being His imperfect tool. I can’t recall the exact words, but it was something like, “God uses imperfect people for His perfect plan.”
Lucky for me, I’ve been working on keeping my cool lately. Maybe it’s age, or maybe it’s just me learning to breathe through the nonsense—who knows. Still, I’m a sucker sometimes, so I asked.
“Trump surviving two assassination attempts proves it,” they said. “God chose him to lead us.” My brain just sank into despair hearing that.
I don’t want to dive into a God debate this time—I’ll dodge that trap for now. But I do want to poke at this notion of knowing God’s will. I’m not trying to attack anyone’s beliefs; I’m just curious if these questions even come up. In a presidential race, aren’t all the candidates praying too? Don’t they all think God’s got their back? We’ve seen it—Ted Cruz claiming he’s chosen, Marco Rubio getting anointed by religious bigwigs. Are we just cherry-picking the stories that match our team?
I’m not asking because I need answers handed to me. I think we should all chew on this ourselves—test if our take on God’s will holds up. That said, I’ve got a wild historical nugget to share, one that might shake this “survival means approval” idea loose.
July 20, 1944. The big-shot Führer’s huddled with his loyal crew in the Wolf’s Lair, his East Prussia HQ. A colonel named Claus von Stauffenberg had a plan: kill Hitler and topple the Nazis for good. He stuffed a bomb in a briefcase, set to rewrite history. Everything went smooth—he slipped it under the table near Hitler during a secret meeting.
Stauffenberg faked a phone call excuse, stepped out, and boom—the blast hit. He thought it was done, took off for Berlin to link up with the resistance. What he didn’t know? Hitler survived. Against all odds, some guy had nudged the briefcase just enough that the leg of this huge oak table took the brunt of the explosion. Saved by a table leg—divine intervention, if you buy that logic.
Historians say Hitler strutted back to the wrecked room that same day with Mussolini, bragging that surviving meant God and destiny confirmed his purpose.
This bugs me because it’s like waving a white flag. If we buy that God’s directing this trainwreck, who are we to argue? It’s surrender, plain and simple—and the real fight hasn’t even kicked off yet.
Stepping back from tribal politics, from this political football game, isn’t just good for our sanity (which should be obvious by now). It’s also best for the country we claim to care about. If we can’t hold power to account because “God chose them,” we’re just rebooting a system we ditched ages ago. I thought we were done with kings and God’s middlemen. Guess we’re stuck rereading that chapter
MenO
