When Texas silences voters, faith calls us to speak out

Though our democracy may be in crisis, we believe, as the Psalmist does in Psalm 27, that we shall see “the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” Our beloved republic stands at a crossroads. In Texas, the lines on a map are being drawn to silence voices, dilute communities and rig the rules of the game.

This is not simply about cartography. It is about covenant. The covenant that binds “We the People” together rests on this promise: Power flows from the consent of the governed. When that covenant is broken, when leaders choose their voters instead of voters choosing their leaders, we are not merely witnessing a political maneuver; we are confronting a moral trespass against the very heart of democracy.

We are both sons and grandsons of the pulpit, our roots deep in the red clay and sacred soil of America’s preaching tradition. One of us stands each Sunday in the shadow of history, leading a storied Black church whose walls have heard the cries for freedom and the songs of deliverance. The other walks the marble floors of the Texas House, a different kind of sanctuary, where the sermon is written in legislation and the altar is the people’s desk.

Different pulpits, same calling. Different congregations, same Gospel: That every person bears the image of God, and that any assault on human dignity is a sin against heaven itself. This is why we stand together now. Because the crisis before us is not just political — it is moral. And our faith teaches us that injustice is never inevitable and that hope is not wishful thinking.

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In Texas, we have seen both the peril and the promise of this moment. We have seen maps drawn with surgical precision to fracture communities of color and strip working families of their power. We have watched the machinery of democracy treated like a weapon to be wielded, not a trust to be stewarded.

This is the same spirit that sought to overturn a national election, that incited violence at our Capitol, that still whispers the Big Lie to corrupt the soul of our nation. What happens in Texas is not isolated — it is a testing ground for a prolonged, broader assault on democracy itself.

But we have also seen something else. We have seen people of every race, creed and conviction link arms and declare, “This too, we shall overcome.” We have seen congregations become civic sanctuaries, offering not only prayer but protection. We have seen young people refuse to inherit a democracy diminished by fear and cynicism.

While forces of destruction have tried to unravel the living tapestry of our ever-perfecting union, Texans have met them with a defiant cry from history: Come and take it.

Psalm 27 does not call us to retreat, it calls us to courage. To “wait for the Lord” is not to stand idle while injustice hardens into law. It is to root our action in the unshakable belief that the Author of justice is still at work, and that our labor, joined with God’s, can bend the arc toward righteousness. Waiting means resisting when others say stand still, voting when others say it doesn’t matter, and speaking the truth when lies are loud and convenient.

Our democracy has always been a fragile experiment, sustained not by inevitability but by moral imagination; the courage to see past the crisis toward the possibility of renewal.

We are heirs to that same calling. And in our generation, moral imagination must be bold enough to see past gerrymandered maps to a nation where every vote counts equally, where districts are drawn to serve communities rather than divide them, and where the ballot box is a place of hope instead of hostility.

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That vision will not come by rhetoric alone. It will require lawmakers who refuse the politics of exclusion. It will require churches, synagogues, mosques and temples to reclaim their role as moral centers of civic life. And it will take ordinary citizens refusing to be spectators in the struggle for freedom — defending our democracy with the same determination our foremothers and forefathers once marched, labored and prayed for.

And it will require patient persistence. As the psalmist tells us: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” Waiting is not resignation. It is long suffering the fruit of the Spirit that allows us to sow seeds we may not live to see grow, but which will bear fruit for generations to come.

We do not know every turn the road ahead will take, but we know the destination: A democracy where every voice is heard, every vote is counted and every child inherits the blessings of liberty.

So, America, wait on the Lord and be strong. Let your heart take courage. For with the Lord, as our light and our salvation, the darkness will not overcome us, and the people will not be moved.

The Rev. Otis Moss III is the senior pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. He has a doctorate in ministry and is a poet, activist, author and filmmaker.

Rep. James Talarico is an Austin Democrat who serves as a member of the Texas House Committees on Education and Redistricting. He graduated this year with a master of divinity from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary.

The authors delivered a related sermon on Sunday about faith and democracy at Moss’ church in Chicago.