Disciplined Hope
Prayer, Politics, and Resistance
by Shannon Craigo-Snell
Disciplined Hope
Prayer, Politics, and Resistance
Copyright © 2019 Shannon Craigo-Snell. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.
Cascade Books
An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers
199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3
Eugene, OR 97401
www.wipfandstock.com
paperback isbn: 978-1-5326-4552-5
hardcover isbn: 978-1-5326-4553-2
ebook isbn: 978-1-5326-4554-9
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Names: Craigo-Snell, Shannon Nichole.
Title: Disciplined hope : prayer, politics, and resistance / Shannon Craigo-Snell.
Description: Eugene, OR : Cascade Books, 2019 | Includes bibliographical references.
Identifiers: isbn 978-1-5326-4552-5 (paperback) | isbn 978-1-5326-4553-2 (hardcover) | isbn 978-1-5326-4554-9 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Christianity and politics. | Christianity and justice. | Prayers.
Classification: BR115.P7 C73 2019 (paperback) | BR115.P7 C73 (ebook)
Manufactured in the U.S.A. 09/17/15
To Oshel and Joanna Craigo
who taught me to read voraciously, to follow politics, and to work for the common good.
Preface
This book reflects on an experiment with prayers posted on Facebook during the first year of the Trump administration, prayers that lifted up the work of people and groups who were resisting hatred and working for the common good. Given all that has unfolded regarding the role of Facebook during the 2016 election—Russian bots spreading political discord and lies, ads purchased to disrupt democracy, and the sale of massive amounts of user information—the content of the prayers and the tool of their delivery are at odds. I note the irony.
Readers of these prayers will note that they draw daily from the work of journalists. The bibliography recognizes reporters from many reliable news sources, from a high school paper to local newspapers in various cities to national and international papers. This book is, in a very real way, a love letter to the reporters, investigators, fact-checkers, authors, and editors who make democracy possible through the free press.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful for the efforts of many who have contributed to this text and supported this project. Megan McCarty read over prayers for me all year and helped compile the references. Joanna Hipp offered prayer suggestions, gave feedback on the introduction, and, most graciously, took over the practice of daily prayer. I give thanks to all who drew my attention to those for whom we could intercede and to all who joined this experimental community of prayer.
Tom Zoellner, Danielle Tumminio, and Shawnthea Monroe offered comments that greatly improved the introduction. In addition to the incredible support he normally provides for my work, Seth Craigo-Snell also gave excellent editorial advice and performed bibliographic miracles.
Introduction
This is an account of an experiment, during a time of political chaos, in the first year Donald Trump held the office of President of the United States. It offers a record of prayerful resistance in a time of regular outrages. It also offers a theology of prayer as a political act.
The Experiment
On the morning of November 9, 2016, I was in a state of confusion and panic. Confusion that the people of the United States had—with all appropriate caveats about popular vote versus electoral college—elected a person who was openly sexist, racist, dishonest, and completely unqualified for the office of the presidency. And yet, millions of Americans voted for him.
As a professor who studies issues of social justice, I considered myself clear-sighted and realistic about the United States. But I was most unsettled by the exit polls that revealed the majority of white, female voters chose Trump. As a white, middle-aged, Christian woman, I felt betrayed and displaced. In public settings near where I live in Kentucky, I began to view anyone who looked like me with suspicion. The “we” that I was part of by virtue of being a white woman had proven itself to be harmful to the “we” of my loves and commitments.
The rhetoric of the incoming administration did not threaten me directly. However, everyone I love and the common world we inhabit seemed radically vulnerable: friends and family members of different races, religions, sexual orientations, and gender identities. Looming over all of this was dire concern for our environment. In the face of international consensus on the facts of climate change, the incoming administration promised to abdicate responsibility and roll back regulations designed to protect the earth.
My panic took me into new territory. In keeping with Gen-X stereotypes, I’ve never considered myself particularly attached to institutions of any kind. However, after November 2016 I realized there were institutions I took for granted that I value greatly. Institutions like public schools, the social safety net, checks and balances within the democratic process, the rule of law, the free press, and on and on.
After decades of being comfortable as a political lefty, I realized I am invested in conserving many institutions, ideals, and aspirations of the United States.
The early days after the election had a steep learning curve. My confusion slowly gave way to recognition that I had been naïve. One day I was walking across campus, looking distressed, when Alexis, an African-American, female student, came up and hugged me tight. She said, “I know you are surprised and you don’t know how we are going to survive this. But what is happening now is not something new. Things that have always been wrong with America are being uncovered.” She reminded me that God is—and always has been—with us in the struggle for a better world.
Alicia’s comment did not allay my fears in that moment, but I suspect it laid the groundwork for the idea that emerged on January 24. I had spent over two weeks prior to that day in a constant state of emotional turmoil and rational recoil at the illogical plans and dishonest words of the incoming administration. I oscillated between anger and fear, outrage and anxiety. This was no way to live. Furthermore, I was convinced it was exactly how the new administration wanted people like myself to feel. No one is more easily manipulated than those who are fearful. Outrage expends a lot of energy, often undirected.
My anxious state was evident in my prayer life. Christian faith involves prayer, which takes many forms. My prayers during that time of turmoil centered on asking God to protect the people, places, and institutions that seemed under attack. In both verbal and non-verbal ways, I poured out my fear, anger, and longing for a better world. Yet even these prayers were monochromatic, in that they responded to perceived danger. I was in a defensive stance in my prayer life. And yet, the Bible says “Do not fear” (Isaiah 41:10). Repeatedly (Isaiah 35:4, 40:9, 41:10, and many others). I needed to do something to force myself out of a fear-based posture, at least a little bit.
I decided that every day, I would lift up a person or group that was actively resisting the fear and hate that dominated our national politics. This was intended as a personal discipline—something that I set out to do for my own benefit. Because disciplines can be difficult to stick to, I decided to post my plan, and my prayers, on Facebook, as a form of communal