He recalled Bradford posted on Facebook after the first presidential debate that leaders in the church had supported Trump for years for not being a politician but were now backpedaling because he was not acting like one: “If you said he was the leader God chose, own it.”
After Jan. 6, Lowe finally spoke out: “I can no longer risk having blood on my hands for the sake of unity.”
“I struggle to see the way that people can wave a banner of Christianity and still employ the language of violence, and even a lot of the imagery that I’ve seen used will reference Jesus as being a lion, a lion of the tribe of Judah,” he said. “But one of the things that I recognize in the New Testament is that every time that we expect Jesus to show up as a lion, he shows up as a lamb.”
Bradford takes pride in the diversity of his congregation, which includes white, Black and Latino members. His flock defend their pastor and say his church has transformed their lives through acceptance and love.
That does not mean that they are happy with the violence they saw in Washington on Jan. 6, or that they are all certain that their faith offers clear instruction on how they should act politically.
“My biggest prayer is just that, God, that we would see the truth … and that this country would come together in unity,” said 21-year-old Kara Sandy, a congregant and junior at Bluefield State College.
Congregant Brenda Gross teared up when she was asked about Jacob Chansley, an Arizona man who was part of the insurrection at the Capitol. Known as the “QAnon Shaman,” Chansley led a prayer at the Senate chamber thanking God “for allowing the United States of America to be reborn,” while shirtless and wearing face paint and a furry hat with horns.
“I don’t know what prayer he prayed, but our Jesus was meek and mild. … He wasn’t representing the Jesus that I know and love,” she said.
Her husband attended the Washington rally with Bradford. Gross said she both stands by her pastor and prays for Biden, though she worries about Biden’s support for abortion rights, and how her community might lose jobs if he limits the use of coal.
Gina Brooks, who leads the children’s ministry at Bradford’s church, agreed that the Capitol melee was a sorry spectacle: “It’s sad, it’s really disheartening to see people take on the name Christian and they’re not.”
Brooks said she voted for Trump because she’s pro-life, but was often outraged by his behavior and felt it clashed with her Christian values.
Her 18-year-old son Jacob, who is studying music at Bluefield College, a private, Christian liberal arts college, said that at times it’s best to try to remain impartial.
“It’s important that people like us realize that we shouldn’t take sides, because the sides are what’s basically dividing the country,” he said. “As the body of Christ, our duty is to realize that this is sort of, I don’t know if I want to say like above us, but above our understanding. So, I think it’s just important that we just seek answers from our creator.”
But his mother said politics and religion are often deeply intertwined. She backed the decision to demonstrate by her pastor, whose most recent Facebook posts have been less strident, focusing on a message of unity and humility.
“I agree with him … was there things that were wrong in our election? Absolutely. Is it our responsibility to intercede for this nation? Absolutely,” she said.
“The end result is what the Lord’s will is, and if the Lord’s will is this, then so be it. But it doesn’t mean that we stop interceding in the spirit.”
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This article is by Luis Andres Henao and Jessie Wardarski. Associated Press writer Elana Schor in Washington contributed to this report.
This article originally appeared here.
