Andy Beshear: A faith that governs differently

Last Sunday, I heard Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear speak about his newly released book, Go and Do Likewise: How We Heal a Broken Country, at St. Stephen Church, a prominent African American church in the heart of West Louisville.

As I sat in that crowded sanctuary and listened, two things struck me. First, here was a Democrat talking openly about Christian faith in a way qualitatively different from the white Christian nationalism that has hijacked the Republican Party. Second, and more importantly, he was talking about the role of faith in governance, not merely campaigning.

For too many years, Democratic candidates have either failed to talk honestly and with depth about their faith or have shown up in churches during campaigns, invoked faith and Scripture, and then largely left that language behind once the election was over. It was refreshing to hear a governor talk about how faith informs the way he actually governs, particularly in a state where Democrats are the minority party.

Beshear did not invent the idea of bringing faith into governance. Several U.S. presidents of both parties have created faith offices within the White House.

The Trump administration openly presents religious faith and religious liberty as significant parts of its governing agenda. The question is not whether faith will enter politics, because it already has. The more important question is: What kind of faith will govern, and what will that faith teach political leaders, in the U.S. and abroad, to do with power?

That is where Beshear offers a striking contrast. Throughout his book, he distinguishes his understanding of Christian faith from Trump’s. Beshear argues for a faith that should draw people together rather than divide them, encourage compassion rather than cruelty, and recognize the humanity of people across political, racial, economic and other differences. He asks, in effect, whether the enormous power of government will be exercised primarily through domination and punishment or whether moral commitments such as mercy, dignity and concern for one’s neighbor will shape how that power is used.

Hearing Beshear speak made those contrasts even sharper.

His organizing biblical motif is the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37. I have returned to this parable repeatedly in my own writing and teaching because it disrupts one of the comforting assumptions religious people make about ourselves: that we are naturally the good people in the story.

We may instead resemble the priest and Levite, people who see suffering but remain too busy, insulated, distracted or committed to other priorities to allow another person’s suffering to interrupt our lives. The Samaritan shows us something different. Neighbor-love requires seeing suffering, allowing ourselves to be moved by it, and then using our time, resources, relationships and power to do something about it. The question Jesus leaves us with is not merely, “Who is my neighbor?” but whether we are willing to become neighbors to people in need.

Beshear makes a similar point. He reminds readers that Jesus does not end the parable by asking his hearers merely to admire the Samaritan. Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.” For Beshear, that command has public implications. It means seeing the humanity of people who need food assistance or health care. It means refusing to divide people by party, race, ethnicity or sexual orientation. It means remembering the humanity of immigrants.

“The command means treating people with kindness rather than using the power of government to inflict cruelty.”

At its most basic level, Beshear argues, the command means treating people with kindness rather than using the power of government to inflict cruelty.

That is where Beshear’s argument intersects with something I have been thinking and writing about for years. In my essay “Christian Witness in an Age of Change and Collapse,” I argue the church must never become a puppet of the state. Borrowing the language of Martin Luther King Jr., the church instead should function as the conscience, guide and critic of the state. The church must retain enough independence from political power to challenge that power when necessary.

That distinction matters in our present moment. Christian faith should neither withdraw from government nor become a religious justification for whatever government chooses to do. Faithful public witness should bring compassion, justice, humility, truth and self-sacrificial love into conversation with political power while retaining the freedom to rebuke that power when it violates those values.

In my earlier essay, I described the alternative as churches that “guide, and when necessary, correct, the state’s mechanisms and visions.” This is why the discussion Beshear is initiating matters beyond Kentucky and beyond partisan politics. It raises questions every person of faith who participates in public life should consider: What should our faith cause us to do with power? Will the command to “Go and do likewise” cause us to govern differently?

I applaud Beshear for “testifying” about a faith that can correct the mechanisms and machinations of government rather than simply sanctify them. That requires moral clarity and courage, two qualities in short supply in our public life. A faith that governs differently does not simply bless the exercise of power; it asks hard questions about how that power affects our neighbors, particularly those who are vulnerable to its decisions.

Now that the talk is over and I have had a few days to sit with the experience, a third thing strikes me. Gov. Beshear came to the African American community and to a Black church to talk about faith, politics and the future of our country. In fact, St. Stephen was the first church he visited to discuss his new book.

In its pages, Beshear also acknowledges the influence of African American pastors such as Kevin Cosby, F. Bruce Williams and Corrie Shull. There is something important here that goes beyond political symbolism. Beshear demonstrates a humility that our political moment desperately needs: The willingness of a leader to listen to people whose histories, experiences and perspectives differ from his own.

A faith that governs differently is shaped by neighbor-love and a capacity to draw near enough to people to hear them, learn from them and allow their experiences to inform how power is exercised.

There is also an interesting irony surrounding the timing of this book. Beshear is writing about how his Christian faith has informed his governance of Kentucky at precisely the moment when there is growing national interest in whether he might seek the presidency in 2028. His many appearances on talk shows, podcasts and conferences nationwide have placed him among several Democrats being discussed as possible presidential contenders.

Whether he eventually runs is beside my larger point. Go and Do Likewise gives Americans an opportunity to hear a sitting governor explain publicly how he believes his faith should shape the exercise of political power. That is a conversation worth having regardless of political party.

At a moment when Christianity is deeply entangled with American political power, we desperately need deeper conversations about the proper relationship between faith and the public square. We should ask hard questions not simply about whether our elected officials profess faith, quote Scripture or attend church, but about what their faith produces when entrusted with power.

The test of public faith is not how often politicians quote Scripture while asking for our votes. The more consequential test comes after the votes have been counted: What does their faith teach them to do with power? Will they govern differently?

 

Lewis Brogdon serves as executive director of JustFaith Ministries and is currently interim pastor at Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky.

 

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