For four years, I’ve been explaining my support for President Trump by saying that I like anyone who has the people he has for enemies.
“Show me a man with no enemies,” another president, John F. Kennedy said, “and I’ll show you a man with no friends.” Mr. Trump certainly doesn’t lack for enemies – vocal, venal, vicious, unrelenting.
What I learned this week is that he also has friends.
I don’t know Mr. Trump personally. I don’t know anyone who knows him personally. That means that, like most Americans, I’m limited to what I can discern from the news stations, the websites, the press conferences, the televised rallies.
Since reliable studies show that more than 90 percent of all media coverage of Mr. Trump has been negative, and those presenting “news” accounts are visibly compromised by the depths of their loathing or the blindness of their adoration, the usual outlets are only intermittently helpful.
Given that the press conferences are often sparring matches and the pep rallies mostly about showmanship, they, too, are often of limited benefit.
Of course, those trying to discern Mr. Biden’s character and intentions face similar obstacles.
And then came the conventions. A fair portion of their time is set aside for the speeches of professional politicos, taking the mound for cause and candidate. Their pitches may or may not be genuine; they have considerable professional interest in making the case they’re presenting.
But each party also has the freedom to bring forward an entirely different group of speakers – ordinary Americans, whom no one is forcing to endorse anybody. These, for me, are the ones to watch. And this week, watching some of them step forward at the Republican convention, I met “normal” people whose emotions, frustrations, and aspirations I could identify with thoroughly.
I understood what they said. I watched their faces as they said it. They spoke, time and again, of their love for their country, their history, and their God. Of deep wounds they’d suffered ... of great dreams they’d realized … in some cases, of the life-changing redemption they’d found.
Most of them have not had an easy time of it. But they cherish the mercies of God, the love and inspiration of their families, and the unique opportunities this remarkable nation still affords.
I listened to a nun, and a rabbi. A young man paralyzed, and competing for Congress. Husbands and wives who’d lost spouses, mothers and dads who’d lost children. Blacks. Asians. Hispanics. Women sharing health issues that transformed their lives.
Prisoners marveling at being set free. Foreigners whose eyes shined with delight as they raised their hands to make the American dream their own. Crippled veterans, struggling to stand and salute their nation’s flag.
None of them said they embraced everything this president stands for. All of them told of some tangible way this rich, powerful man found to reach down from the heights and invest in their lives. A job opportunity. An intervention for their freedom. A policy with real consequences. Some funding. An encouraging word.
What they shared with the president was not an agenda, but a humble, vital appreciation for the things most of us hold especially dear. Freedom. Respect. Kindness. Understanding. Courage.
In some small way, each of their lives have crossed his. And they were impressed with what they saw, touched by what they heard, moved by a vision of America they found they both shared.
I listened to their testimonies, and I believed them.
I also listened to some of the testimonies of those speaking for the other party. They, too, must surely find points of difference with their chosen leader. But they, too, have decided that, at bottom, they share with him a vision of our nation – past, present, and future.
It’s a deeply cynical vision of a past less honorable, less inspiring. Of a present more helpless. Of a future less free.
So many who spoke on those platforms seemed gripped by rage and fear. Most seemed a little more well off than their Republican counterparts, yet embraced a sense of victimhood … a feeling that they’d been cheated … that their nation owed them something it hadn’t delivered.
Their leaders offered little in the way of solutions, and opted not to acknowledge our greatest problems: violence, lawlessness, abortion, China. Instead, they embraced those who scream for destruction, demand a brutal vengeance … choose at every step to dominate, intimidate, scorn.
They were united only by their hatred of one man. And by their craven desire to wallow in fear.
I don’t think of myself as a Republican, except by necessity. I am by heritage, personality, faith, and persuasion, a conservative – one of those who try to, in the words of Romans 12:9, “hold fast to what is good.” Only the Republicans still make a little room in their party for people like that.
For a long, long time, Republican leaders have shown themselves a mostly cowardly lot. But the ordinary people I saw at this week’s convention were not cowards. They were people I’d be proud to stand alongside in the face of anything. I like that most of them didn't wear masks – that they thought unity and fellowship were worth the risk. I share their love for my God and my country.
I respect them for the enemies they’re accumulating. And I choose to believe in their friend.
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