Well, it’s election eve! The corflutes are sagging, P&CS everywhere are parboiling democracy sausages, and if you listen carefully, you can almost hear the collective sigh of a city that’s been campaign-adjacent for too long.
Canberra, of course, does elections like no other place in Australia. Caretaker mode for our city’s 70,000 APS workers looks like spending a few weeks penning an elaborate Choose Your Own Adventure novel (Will the teals force a minority government, and so we need to toughen up the NACC legislation? Turn to page 64. Will the Coalition take Bennelong, Gilmore, Lingiari, Lyons and Paterson, and so now we’re going Nuclear? Turn to page 34.)
For many of us the outcome is not just a game—it’s your boss, your project, your inbox next week. And for many in our church community, there’s a real and good sense of investment in what happens next.
But as the ballots are prepped and the pencils sharpened, it’s worth pausing for a curious little line from Psalm 146:
“Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save.”
Now, let’s be honest: I don’t think we’re in any real danger of idolising our modern “princes.” No one’s penning love poems to this year’s crop of candidates. There’s a distinct lack of soaring rhetoric or spine-tingling vision. If anything, it feels like most of us are going to the polls with all the emotional energy of someone renewing their driver’s licence.
But that’s exactly why this verse is still worth hearing.
The temptation to put our trust in princes doesn’t always look like uncritical hero-worship. Sometimes it’s just the low-key belief that if the right people win, then everything will be okay—and if the wrong ones do, then all hope is lost.
Which is where the gospel gently but firmly unhooks our hearts. We follow a risen King who wasn’t voted in and won’t be voted out. He’s not up for re-election. His throne isn’t under threat. And because of that, we’re free, not to disengage, but to engage without anxiety.
We can vote thoughtfully, serve diligently, advocate justly—and then sleep soundly. We can be politically active without being spiritually panicked. We can care, without clutching.
This is especially important in a place like Canberra, where the gears of government touch so many of our daily lives. Your work might be shaped by the outcome. You might feel elated or frustrated on Sunday morning. That’s all part of what it means to live in the world God made.
But whatever happens, our church remains a community gathered not by policy but by grace. We are a people who belong not to a party but to a kingdom. And that kingdom is unshakeable, even when the swing seats swing and the votes are counted.
So vote. Pray. Care. And then come on Sunday with all your post-election emotions in tow—hopeful, tired, maybe even grumpy. Jesus will still be Lord. And we’ll still be his people united in him.
grace and peace,
Steve