Listening to the Good Shepherd in the Days of Trump

This is a post that talks about Donald Trump, but it’s not about Trump. He’s not a curio piece or slow-collision car wreck to stare at. That’s easy to do, and I have had to regularly remind myself that he’s mere “flesh and blood,” and it’s not with him that I am to spar. When my dinner-table conversation with Jennifer begins parrying at length with whatever ingratiating things Trump said or did that day, I gotta stop myself. Or Jennifer wisely calms me down. “He’s a small man,” I have found myself thinking (or saying out loud) as something kind of like a prayer. So this post isn’t about Trump. I can’t give him center-stage like that, because I’m heading to a conclusion that isn’t about him. And isn’t his prominence less about him and more about those supporting him? As a Christian, I should focus on the bizarre/expected?/sad reality that many, many other Christians are big fans of this small man.
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