The Real Failure of the Church in This Election

The moon glinted on the lake outside as the water bugs buzzed around the light. It was humid, and the sweat on my back chilled me under the oscillating fan. It was August, and I was eight months pregnant, but it was none of these that had me so heated.

Anger vibrated up my spine as my dad pushed, as he ever did, how Trump’s policies were completely respectable, and lined up…