The book of Revelation talks about a “beast:” a frightening, dangerous creature from God-knows-where with 5 heads, horns, etc. – a metaphor for some kind of political force that will rule in the “end times.” According to the story, the beast will war with God and prepare the world for the arrival of “anti-christ,” a final political figure who will be wildly popular but will also lead the world into chaos, and many people into destruction.

While we need to be cautious with biblical metaphors and their meanings, I have no problem believing that this is a look into the future of us, albeit a complicated and seemingly ambiguous one. But to understand what any of this has to do with us in the here and now we have to understand what the word “beast” means.

In the New Testament, “beast” (θηρίον) doesn’t mean a large, frightening, scary monster, it simply means “animal.” We translated it into something much scarier because this particular animal seems to be the thing of nightmares, so we added some spice to our translation.

Whatever it is, the beast will think and act like an animal, in stark contrast to the perfect humanity that the bible hopes we’ll all embrace. Politically speaking, it will be “marked” by its animal instincts: self preservation, retaliation, territory, dominance, lethal force, etc., and with it will come, by definition, much violence and bloodshed.

The world has seen this many times over and, today, has less tolerance for it than ever before. While the Bible’s final beast seems to be an actual, singular, future leader, we’re warned to avoid its mark, even if it hasn’t arrived yet. That’s what we seem to be struggling with when it comes to our understanding of what’s best for our country.

The beast will have followers who’ve somehow become convinced that an animal’s way of doing politics is better than the Jesus’s way, embracing a similar, animal “mark.” They’re not dumb, or bad, they simply buy into the core values of non-humans, which is easy to do, especially when our minds have been overthrown by negative emotions, especially those of anger and fear.

Hitler’s Germany is the best example of how vulnerable a country becomes when the majority of its people have become angry about the way things are going, and fearful of where they’ll end up. The post WWI Versailles Treaty reduced Germany to nothing, driving it into abject poverty, and in the eyes of many, sealing its doom. Some guy showed up from God-knows-where promising to heal the wounds, right the wrongs, and make the country great again, and all the people who embraced the religion of anger and fear said “amen!”

A “beast” shows up in situations like this and preaches “Force!” “Retaliation!” “Self preservation!” “Territory!” The people whose minds have been overthrown see someone who cares, someone who’ll protect them. If there are enough of those people, the beast is given all the authority it needs to rip things to shreds for it’s own agenda, which is always less than human.

To a country that’s become angry, afraid, emotional, and divisive, animal politics are the only thing that make sense. From there, it’s not difficult to understand how an awful beast of a leader can simply walk up and take over.

Us Christians will tell you that we would never support something so unholy. Whatever this beast is, he won’t get our vote. Meanwhile, in the background, our anger and fear overfloweth, compelling us to enthrone one of the most divise politicians I’ve ever seen.

“Punch that guy in the face,” he said, multiple times during his campaign, and, “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters, OK?” But that didn’t bother us. Over the past 50 years we’ve lost nearly every political/cultural battle we’ve engaged. Nobody’s listening. We’ve all but lost our voice, our seat at the table. Now, a byword at best, we’re watching our country travel briskly down a most unholy road, worried about what will happen to us. Then, some guy shows up out of God-knows-where, promising to listen. He’s tough, no-nonsense, and clearly on our side. To top it off, he occasionally uses our lingo, or appropriates one of our symbols.

He’s one of us.

Please don’t hear me comparing Donald Trump to Adolph Hitler. I am however comparing American Christianity’s fear and anger to that of post WWI Germany, making us vulnerable to an anti-human politic. When our leaders say “Me first!,” and, “This country’s going to hell in a handbasket!” and “Fight!” we lock and load. When they talk about their political adversaries like Hitler talked about the Jews, we don’t smell a thing.

There’s similar rot in liberal politics to be sure. Plenty on the other side have become too emotional about things, suckers for politicians who’ve forgotten the power of kindness and mercy, the marks of a true human. But negative emotions are powerful, and easily manipulated. Because animal politics have become so part-and-parcel to American politics, you can bet that everyone’s campaign will be full of “Territory!” “Retaliation!” “Fight!” etc.

But we, as individual Americans, don’t have to buy into all of this. Every single commandment that Jesus gave us invites us to shed the mark of an animal and clear the way for something better. Compassion, mercy, patience, understanding, forgiveness, sacrifice, community, and an overall pursuit of one-ness are the only things that have enough power to stitch up our division and put this country on a trajectory that’s more in line with what we really want it to be.

But to do that we’ll have to find a way to rid anger and fear from the core of everything we do. Faith in Jesus should, by definition, free us from this, but it requires a level of discipleship that transcends Bible knowledge, moral living, and right theology; the easier things of life with Him.

In the 10 years that transpired between Eisenhower’s Civil Rights Act and the death of Martin Luther King Jr., America took unprecedented strides toward racial equality, carving paths for a mountain of pro-Black legislation and the massive cultural shifts that followed.

White America celebrated, viewing our accomplishment as one might appreciate a newly constructed skyscraper.

I’m tempted to view the Civil Rights Movement as many of my fellow Christians do, with its haunting black-and-white reminders of the evils that were laid to rest long ago. To many in my camp, racism in the US is now a wounded animal at best – still alive, but not the deadly beast of long ago. Thanks to Dr. King and his followers, great violence was done to the overt expressions of Jim Crow; no more lynchings, white/black water fountains, legalized segregation, voting restrictions, etc. We’ve since disavowed the white hoods and their nationalist cousins, now living in what many consider to be a “post-racial” America.

So we find ourselves befuddled when Black activists and protesters air their complaints, sometimes violently. What more could they want, another skyscraper on top of the one we’ve already built? We expressed similar exasperation during America’s post-slavery era, unable to parse the negative sentiments of its newly freed citizens. The institution of chattel slavery had been obliterated at great expense to the union that was nearly obliterated with it. And Blacks had the audacity to expect more.

Each time America takes a leap toward healing, us white Christians compare “what is” to “what was” and conclude: mischief managed. We congratulate ourselves, move on, and leave the racism that drove it all unfettered to change its clothes, blend in a bit better, and begin its next iteration. In this new, post-Civil-Rights era, we’ve transitioned without a hitch into things like mass incarceration, wage disparities, employment bias, education and housing inequity, police brutality – a multitude of further perpetrations that have left our Black brothers and sisters disadvantaged, traumatized, and angry.

As in all of our past transitions, these “new” expressions are different from their overt, in-your-face forebears; far less shocking, and much easier to dismiss. A “whites only” sign confronts us every time we lay eyes on it, but systemic employment gaps, for example, are only visible to their victims and/or those with the guts to take a peek under the rug. We saw this at President Trump’s first State of the Union Address where it was announced that “African-American unemployment stands at the lowest rate ever recorded.” The predominately white audience stood and applauded, while members of the Congressional Black Caucus stared in disbelief, refusing to clap, or stand. As pundits, pastors, and media outlets asked “why?” to us white Evangelicals it was clear: this was merely another example of the Black community’s failure to recognize how good things are.

Black unemployment has always been twice that of white unemployment. It doesn’t matter how educated, motivated, empowered, or unencumbered Blacks in America have become, they’ll always be significantly more unemployable than whites; always first to be fired in an economic downturn, last to be hired when things are going well, etc. But again, if I’m not a victim, or if I don’t care to take a deeper look, this doesn’t exist.

In our failure to see a fuller picture, a different story has burrowed in, one of entitlement, laziness, criminality; things that continue to fuel the racist thread that was woven into our cultural fabric so long ago. We are now the cross section of America most likely to harbor resentment when our Black brothers and sisters air their complaints. When they get angry, we fire back, utterly convinced that they’ve never had it so good.

From my perspective, as someone who’s spent the majority of his adult life in conservative Christian circles, now married to a person of color and willing to give Black voices some authority, there’s a simple, somewhat graphic analogy that illustrates the irony of our posture. Consider a scenario where I come daily and physically assault you. You have no say in the matter, you’re simply required to sit and endure it. One day I announce that you’ll only be assaulted 3 times a week, and can’t figure out for the life of me why you’re not celebrating, or thanking me for the mountain of progress “we” just made. I offer no apology, or reparations, and I’m completely ignorant of the destruction I’ve brought to both our lives.

In this, “you never had it so good” is true, technically speaking, and your situation has dramatically improved, technically speaking. But you’d be right to expect more. I, however, was numbed to the terror of your abuse, and the rationalization of it, now feeling a sense of freedom and accomplishment at the idea of “less,” simply because the abuse doesn’t look like it used to.

As long as I’m comparing today’s accomplishments to yesterday’s horror, expecting racism to show up in its shocking Jim Crow attire, or worse, I’ll be among the few who are celebrating, and take a hall pass when it comes to the painful process of moving beyond what I think racism is supposed to look like. The Black community’s cries for justice, equity, and equality will sound like the entitled rantings of people who just need to be a little more thankful. When their protests turn violent, I’ll see myself as the victim, echoing repeatedly what my white ancestors cried out when America took its first steps in 1868:

“This will not end well for white folk.”

Fortunately, others from my camp are beginning to wake up, best we can, especially at the murder of George Floyd and other signs that things aren’t as good as we previously imagined. We’re realizing that our skyscraper more closely resembles a house of popsicle sticks, shaken by the huff and puff of America’s racial disabilites.

On the eve of what might be America’s next transition, here’s to building something better.

I’ve struggled to navigate conflict in marriage. Elaine is the easily the smartest, most capable person I know, heavily armed in a battle about money, kids, calendar, whatever. It’s hard to keep up, and, in the early years, I frequently found myself either shutting down or getting super angry, rarely in the healthy middle.

My southern Christian culture says that the man is the head of the household, the pants-wearer, the strong one. The woman is the “helper,” the “weaker vessle,” an associate of sorts. In our early years I showed up with that cultural baggage and tried my best to prevail over her in every argument we had, as any self-respecting pants-wearer should.

Years later (many, many years later), I came to understand that my job is to grind whatever grist the mill requires to have a good relationship, like my wife and I are actually friends, of all things. Sometimes that requires arguing, fighting, and pushing for my values to be respected, sometimes that means letting her “win,” and all points in between. I’m no longer keeping score as if my male-ness is measured by how many times I prevail in an argument.

Instead, I’m constantly asking if we’re getting closer to one another.

That’s the point of conflict, by the way, and I’ll mention that relational growth doesn’t happen without it – we don’t get closer if we’re not willing to fight it out. But us men struggle here, we want peace in our home after a long, difficult day of work, and we feel pressure to prevail, so we show up in all manner of broken ways when it comes time to argue.

Shortly after Elaine and I got engaged, a pastor friend said, “I don’t know why it works this way, but in every broken marriage I’ve counseled, the guy checks out and the wife gets angry and controlling. The more he checks out, the more angry and controlling she becomes, the more angry and controlling she becomes, the more he checks out.” I’ve experienced the same, not only in my marriage but in the marriages I’ve counseled. I once sat with two friends, listening as they hashed out their differences. She said something mean and snarky, he looked down at his knees and turned 9 shades of purple, trying his best to hide the rage.

I don’t mean to sound sexist, or contribute to unhelpful gender stereotypes; this is simply how men and women tend to show up when things sour. It’s an eerily consistent phenomenon, but helpful for us spouses when it comes time to argue. I can’t run and hide when Elaine spools up the ICBM’s, and whatever disrespect/retaliation/etc. that might come from her is inappropriate.

So, I’ve learned to engage, and discovered a few things about the fine art of arguing with my spouse, shared below in annoying blogger list form.

1. Listen First, Argue Last

If you can’t articulate your spouse’s point of view, you’ve got no business pushing yours. But her’s is ridiculous right? In listening, aren’t you in some way supporting a foolish, life-threatening agenda? Who wants to sit and listen patiently as someone outlines why their stupid point of view is the one that should inluence a big decision?

Unfortunately, most arguments are about two people fighting to be heard. I’ll unpack this below, but we come into marriage with values, perspectives, and emotional ties to our personal truths that we desperately need our spouse to respect. When we’re listened to, we felt known, honored, like there might actually be something good about us.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wrestled with someone on social media who couldn’t in a million years articulate my position, or how I got here. I also can’t tell you how huge it would be if just one of my adversaries invited me to a zoom call where they sat, listened, and articulated my position back to me. I can assure you that I’d be hard-pressed to reciprocate.

Listening in an argument is a powerful way to push the marriage forward, to communicate to your spouse that they have weight, that they matter, regardless of how silly their perspective may sound. But it’s also in the listening that we learn why they’ve embraced their perspective, why it’s so important to them, and where their preferred trajectory comes from.

Listening is also where great ideas come from. That’s certainly been true for us.

Ultimately, if you want to be listened to, you’ll have to listen first, to the point where you can articulate, maybe even defend, your spouse’s position.

2. Respect the Baggage

As someone who’s counseled many, and as a result learned to ask difficult questions of myself, I assure you that nobody comes into marriage without some broken stuff. We’ve all been misused, mishandled, misappropriated, rode hard, put up wet, etc. We hide it well in our dating chapter, but it comes out full force in a union where the two are hopelessy interlocked, now forced to put all cards on the table.

If my wife somehow agitates my unhealed places, I’ll do the 9 shades of purple thing, and when I can’t manage that, I’ll lash out. And none of that’s her fault. The land mines she frequently steps on were placed well before we met. But it’s easy to blame her; she’s the one that dug up the hurt, the one that misstepped. In my pain and hurt, I retaliate, as we all do when someone hurts us, especially when we’re completely clueless about why we’re hurting.

This is a common dance. Spouse A says something that interfaces with Spouse B’s past hurt, said past hurt stirs from its slumber and causes Spouse B to experience pain, Spouse B retaliates which causes Spouse A’s past hurt to wake up, and soon a war develops that has nothing to do with anything good.

I’m fortunate to know where these areas are for both Elaine and myself. When things get angry and heated, I’m much more likely to stop and think about what’s driving things, and a bit more skilled at redirecting.

3. Unleash

I’ll brag a bit. Elaine, again, is the most capable person I’ve ever met. She’s got our calendar memorized, and has led our family into a level of fiscal responsibility that I never thought possible. You might not believe this, but, thanx to this newfound value, I’ve crafted a spreadsheet for our yearly spending, full of formulas and calculations that Elaine herself can’t keep up with. It’s brilliant, but born from her very high expectation that we avoid wasting what we have.

I struggled with this at first, always a free spirit when it comes to money, as my dowry will attest. If we’d have gone with “the man runs the show” system of marital thought, we’d be in a different financial place, among other things.

If you know Elaine, you know she’s a leader. She hates small talk, often speaks her mind, and doesn’t spend much time worrying about what people think. Weak people see her as a threat, as I did in our first years. She has a very clear vision for the day-to-day operation of our family, and could easily run the country, much less our small gathering of humans now trying our best to navigate a pandemic.

I’m more of a stereotypically right-brained type, a big-picture person with little tolerance for day-to-day details. Feelings, creativity, freedom, etc. are deeply held values, and I feel stifled when someone from the wrong side of the brain comes along and tries to bridle me.

We tried to do just that in the early years of our marriage, constantly applying force that might form the other person in our image. I wanted her to be more like me, vice versa, etc. It’s a long story, but we’ve finally come to appreciate each other, rely on our collective gifts, and celbrate the wide range of arrows we have in our quiver. When things get confusing/scary/overwhelming and a decision needs to be made, it usually falls to me. When it comes to decisions that require a mountain of information, Elaine shines.

In the interest of being the “man of the house,” I could resist her gifts and ignore the way God has put her together, but our entire family would suffer, including me. There are two of us in this marriage, each uniquely resourced with talents and abilities that the other doesn’t possess. Insecurity is threated by this, always trying to stifle the other person’s gifts.

Maturity, the kind that understands what leadership is, unleashes them, and celebrates.

4. Take out the Trash from Past Arguments

Many times, well-meaning spouses resolve nothing in their arguments, departing the arena in shame, covered in a dusty film of defeat, bitterness, anger, and feeling cheated. This of course condemns the next argument to be even less productive as the negative emotions from the previous one will be rekindled.

This isn’t a product of two people that just need to get a divorce. It’s simply what happens when two people who don’t know how to argue, argue. If we do this too much, the marriage begins to make little sense. We pile hurt upon hurt, scratching our heads wondering why our spouse has become so repulsive to us.

As Americans, we’re a bit ridiculous when it comes to naming our feelings, i.e., admitting when we’re hurt, being honest with our spouse about the residual emotions from a bad encounter. Unfortunately, emotions that shall not be named cannot be dealt with. If I can’t go to my spouse and say something akin to “hey, I’m not sure if I should be hurt, but I am. Can we talk about this?” And if our spouse can’t put the cannon down and listen, things aren’t going to go well.

I don’t have the time or the psycotherapeutical chops to unpack all that’s required to help make your next argument relatively garbage free. Suffice it to say that great levels of maturity, strength, and humility are required to pull it off.

But that’s why this is such an American thing – humiltiy isn’t a big priority for us, nor is the maturity and strength that come with it. The high divorce rate in our country isn’t caused by some inability to find the right spouse, we simply refuse the requirements of a good marriage, so we have bad ones. There is no middle ground, or fence option.

If you’re reading this, thinking that you’ve got some work to do, we all do. We’ve all bitten off more than we can chew, we’re all the pipsqueaks who’ve wandered into the gym for the first time. A good marriage requires work, forcing us to confront, maybe for the first time, our weakest, most broken places. That’s scary, and difficult, especially because it makes us dependent on someone else.

But I don’t know anyone who’s stepped into these arenas, used the gifts that they possessed, however meagre, and didn’t prevail to some degree. More times than not, the effort we expend on behalf of our marriage comes back multi-fold. If nothing else, the effect that this work has on us personally is worth whatever hell we have to walk through.