It was just a cough drop, an old cough drop at that. But sharing it was a remarkable gesture that helped me put next week’s midterm elections in perspective.
The date was September 1, 2018. John McCain’s funeral. Protocol once again seated former President George W. Bush next to former First Lady Michelle Obama. Bush had pulled out a small box with the White House logo to offer a cough drop to his wife, Laura. Seated on the other side of President Bush, Michelle Obama said, “Hand me a cough drop,” and he did.
It wasn’t the last cough drop Mr. Bush gave Mrs. Obama, nor was it their first encounter. The two became friends, publicly and privately, in spite of their political differences.
And they’re not the only ones to develop unlikely friendships. Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia celebrated New Year’s Eve together with their families for years. Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill battled over almost everything political, but Reagan said that after six o’clock, they were friends.
One candidate for New Hanover County commissioner told me last week that as she works the polls this year, everyone just seems mad. Maybe we should all carry a pocketful of cough drops. Or some Halloween candy. Or just a mouthful of kind words and a face full of smiles.
For me, it’s not just about courtesy and decency. It’s a connection between my faith and my politics. Jesus is the one who spoke of the power of giving even a “cup of cold water” in his name. He’s also the one who told us to love our enemies and pray for them.
My wife and I have attended dozens of churches in Wilmington and Leland since we moved here in late 2023, and I’ve found that people of faith, for the most part, live by the cough drop principle. To be sure, there are exceptions, but in most churches, people rub shoulders with others who disagree politically and still find common ground.
My own denomination, the United Church of Christ, is known for being among the most progressive Protestant bodies in America. But a recent poll indicated that 34% of people in our pews describe themselves as “conservative,” 32% as “moderate,” and only 28% as “liberal.” A cough drop passed down the pew is likely to land in the hands of a political opponent.
That’s a good thing, because as Bush and Obama, Ginsburg and Scalia, and Reagan and O’Neill remind us, a small gesture can become a friendship that deepens understanding and advances the common good.
My faith does something else for me as I head to the polls to vote. It reduces my anxiety.
This past Sunday, I told the Presbyterian congregation where I’m serving as interim pastor, “God is not worried about the election.”
He’s not. I didn’t say God doesn’t care, but he’s not worried about the outcome. It’s why we pray—for elections, for political leaders, for the world. Prayer may or may not change who’s elected, but prayer always changes the pray-er. The act of prayer is an act of release, of trusting God that no matter what happens, he’s got this. He’s got us.
That awareness doesn’t change what I think is right or who I want in office. But it allows me to be the kind of change I’d love to see in America—where we seek to understand before we counterattack, where we form unlikely friendships that break down barriers, and where we allow God and each other the space to work for what’s true and right.
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