Much ado about No Kings

As far as shows of military might be concerned, the parade of June 14 will probably be fairly forgettable. I used to go to Blue Angels shows as a kid because my dad was an aviator and loved watching them. Were these, also, offensive and threatening shows of military might? I guess, if that’s what we’re calling June 14. Was watching Top Gun on VHS as an adolescent a naked and naïve show of support for the United States and its military prowess? Probably. I still really liked both experiences. As did a lot of my friends across the political aisle.

There’s nothing quite as quaint as a small-town version of a demonstration. I live in a smallish town in the mid-South that is pretty conservative but that also (as all not quite small towns do) has its fair share of left-leaning people who occupy a particular slice of downtown and its coffee shop. I have no problem with this because I grew up in the 1980s when conservatives and liberals could be friends and didn’t have to loathe the very core of each other’s existence and be threatened by each other all the time. This was nice and for the record I’d like to return to it.

But about the demonstrations … they usually involve a handful of people sitting on the courthouse lawn, hating Trump publicly, and eliciting (if anything) a response in me somewhere along the lines of “huh,” as I drive by and barely slow down. In this, I guess they are the opposite of anything approaching meaningful or impactful or moving-of-the-proverbial-needle. It just scans as “immediately forgettable” or, more positively, Americans doing what Americans are allowed to do. Nobody bothers them, and this is good too. But it raises the question, especially in the internet age, “What’s the point of doing this?” especially when it just feels like a sadder version of Twitter/X.

Being task-oriented myself, I would hate to be involved in something meaningless with no impact that was a complete waste of time and energy and maybe money. But that’s just me. And then I remember all of the committees I’m a part of at work, which fit the above description to an uncomfortable “T” and then I chuckle about it. As Doc Holliday famously said in Tombstone, “It seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

Also, anyone who isn’t a toddler knows that we don’t have a king and won’t for a long time if the people in most of the South, the Great Plains, the Midwest, most of the upper Midwest, and Texas have anything to say about it.

What’s interesting about No Kings is that the mantra could have easily been swung around by our side of the aisle when we had an administration pushing a hasty-to-market vaccine, shutting down our kids’ schools, and encouraging us to stay in our homes for as long as humanly possible. This seemed, to me, more like King Herod than Trump thumping his military chest for an afternoon. I guess it’s a matter of perspective and we all kind of want the same thing: to not be ruled by whatever our version of a “tyrant” is.

Yet for the unchurched—of which there are admittedly very few here in the mid-South because we have enough wan, lifeless, basically-a-social-club churches to fit anyone’s social and political proclivities—I guess these demonstrations serve a certain utility, as it’s a chance to gather, to sometimes recite liturgies or slogans, and to be with like-minded people, if only for an afternoon before heading back inside to order DoorDash and post about having protested. In this case it stands in as a fleeting, counterfeit version of church and probably provides something along the lines of “community” around a common cause.

I get this, but I’m also really glad I have a real version of it in my church, where I am challenged by the Word, encouraged to confess sin, and encouraged to examine my own heart in light of God’s perfect goodness. I fall short in my motives (even/especially in my political/social hand-wringing), and I need the grace that only God can provide. Church, even in its glaring imperfections, is infinitely more joyful and satisfying than outrage because it’s grounded in something true and beautiful. And the older I get, the more I want truth and beauty that is housed in scripture, which lives and breathes without me and my often-wrong ideas. I’m so glad God doesn’t need me to protest or write columns. But I’m also glad we live in America, where we have military might, and also where people can demonstrate—even when it’s sad.