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“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” 

In just a few days, I will fly to our nation’s capital—a personal first—to attend the National
Prayer Breakfast.

I have no idea how this is going to go. 

On the one hand, the event certainly has a storied reputation. The breakfast rightly prides itself as a space where attendees will set their divisions aside and lift up the name of Jesus Christ.  While the event’s beginnings lie quite close to home—starting in Seattle in 1935—it has persisted as a national gathering since the Eisenhower administration. 

This longevity means the event is no stranger to controversy. It hosted presidents while the country tore itself apart over the Vietnam War; it continued to host President Nixon during the Watergate scandal; it invited President Clinton while the nation reeled from the revelations of his affair with Monica Lewinsky. Through it all—and still today—the National Prayer Breakfast relies on the power of the name of Jesus to bring people together and inspire reconciliation regardless of headlines or circumstances. 

I too believe in the power of the name of Jesus. I believe my Lord reigns above all the things of this world, including those of this nation. I know that when two or more are gathered in the name of Jesus, he is there with them. This means that any gathering in the name of our Lord has the potential to see healing, miracles, and inexplicable reconciliation. That’s what Jesus did, what he’s still doing, and what he’ll continue to do forever.

Yet I still have no idea how this event is going to go. 

I can always tell when news has reached a certain significance when my students start asking me about it in class, unprompted. For perspective: the last time I got spontaneous questions about a current event was when Charlie Kirk was killed. Now my students are asking about Alex Pretti. 

At first, I thought this would be a similarly divisive incident. After Kirk’s death I saw students break down sobbing over the loss of one of their heroes while others openly celebrated. Similarly, the wake of Pretti’s death initially promised to be quite choppy. While federal officials accused Pretti of committing “an act of domestic terrorism”, commentators—relying on an abundance of eyewitness footage and testimony—began to call the incident a state-sponsored “execution”. 

Thankfully, recent developments trend in a different direction. An internal review of the incident seems to contradict the Trump administration's initial narrative of the event. Further, public opinion has begun to shift so dramatically that President Trump has even signaled a potential deescalation in and around Minneapolis. 

Still, I don’t think the outrage inspired by recent events—and the backlash from those who feel the need to defend this administration’s actions—is going away. This is just the latest chapter in an increasingly tragic and deadly story of President Trump’s flexing—and according to courts repeated abuse—of federal power. Before Minneapolis there was Portland; before Portland there was Chicago; before Chicago there was Los Angeles. This doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop. Federal agents are murdering American citizens in the streets of our cities, and people are rightly furious about it. 

Meanwhile, I’m going to eat some eggs and talk about Jesus. 

That’s how I feel about this event in my more cynical moments. I honestly wonder what the hell we’re going to talk about. How do you make small talk over breakfast given what’s happening around the nation? Are we all just sitting around humming “kumbaya” while people die? Are we at risk of being so heavenly minded that we become incapable of doing earthly good? 

In the midst of all this, I get to “look forward” to the president—this president—potentially speaking at the event. Am I really going to have to listen to President Trump work the crowd while the hypocrisy of this president speaking to this fellowship tries to tear my mind in half? Can such a gathering have any integrity? 

At my core, I know this isn’t what I believe. First, the historian in me knows this is clear recency bias. I’m committing the classic error of imagining that my particular moment is more significant than what came before. If I were to talk to those who were at Kent State University on May 4th, 1970, I would certainly gain some perspective. 

More importantly, God’s Holy Spirit reminds me of what I truly believe. I do believe in the name of Jesus, and all the power that comes along with it. I’ve seen too much to believe otherwise. I know that when God’s people passionately, desperately seek his face miracles happen. 

Still, at this moment I’m struggling to align what I believe and what I think. 

I do believe, Lord; help me in my unbelief.