Welcome to that sacred rhythm in democracy’s calendar: the election season.
It’s when politicians rediscover their Bibles, quote Scripture—sometimes even in context—and show up at your church lunch in time for the cameras.
But for people of faith, this isn’t about photo ops or soundbites. While voting is a civic duty, it’s also a spiritual opportunity stemming from discernment. Some platforms may echo biblical language but not all convictions or policies are created equal or protect what matters most. The intersection of faith and politics in modern Australia can feel like navigating Babylon with a Bible in one hand and a ballot in the other.
When conviction meets culture
Let’s name what many of us have felt: the cultural tide has shifted.
Faith-based values are no longer mainstream. Witnessing or expressions of faith are often branded as dangerous or harmful. Christians in public life are told: keep faith private or lose your job. From teachers warned and chaplains fired to ordinary people sidelined for sharing their beliefs which are now incompatible with the new moral order.
Australia offers barely any protections for religious belief. We have no Bill of Rights. Religious “freedom” survives because it is an exemption to discrimination laws, not a guaranteed fundamental right—so it can be quietly rewritten or removed altogether.
And it’s already happening. Their strategy is simple. It starts with reframing and redefining biblical convictions as harm. Then comes dominance of ideologies that override conscience. And finally, enforcement is delegated to institutions that rarely favour open faith expression—HR departments, professional regulators, police, courts and tribunals—to do the silencing work.
Faith hasn’t been outlawed in name but in practice, some expressions of it now carry penalties. In NSW, Victoria and Queensland, it’s a criminal offence to pray with someone about their sexuality or gender identity if the prayer is seen as trying to change or suppress it—even when the person themselves asks for it. A parent, pastor or friend could be prosecuted for a prayer offered in love. The laws don’t ban religion but the message is clear: Not here. Not now. Not like that.
So… Discernment isn’t optional. It’s essential. And here’s our hope.
God’s people have always done their best work from the margins. The Church grew under persecution, not popularity—and exile often clarifies what matters most. If we’ve lost cultural comfort, perhaps that’s a call to rediscover courage!
Our mission was never to blend in but to stand out—not with arrogance or anger but with clarity, conviction and grace. Remember Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind”?
Voting with a transformed mind
Sadly, in modern day Australia, influence comes with a price tag. $A110,000 could buy dinner—and influence—with a Cabinet Minister. But we weren’t invited.
In a system where access often comes at a cost, conviction can be left waiting outside. This is the world we vote in: where values are applauded until they challenge the narrative. Where biblical truth is fine, so long as it’s silent.
But the Bible doesn’t call us to silence. It doesn’t call us to be loud for the sake of volume. Rather, when others silence their witness, we’re called to speak truth in love. To be salt and light, not hidden in the pantry or dimmed by fear. “Let your light shine before others,’ Jesus said, “that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).
If Daniel could stand in Babylon without losing his soul, so can we. Discernment means we don’t just listen to what’s said, we watch what’s done. As Jesus said, “By their fruits you will know them” (Matthew 7:20).
Yes, some politics may be weaponised and corrupt—but not all leaders are. Some are placed by God, called to their role, and quietly doing justice behind the scenes. They are people of faith. Others are allies of conscience. They may not share our faith but defend our freedoms nonetheless. Because those freedoms aren’t just ours but everyone’s.
So, we honour these leaders. We pray for them. We collaborate where we can—and remain courageous where we must.
And let’s be honest: we’ve sometimes shouted when we should have listened and stayed silent when we should have spoken. But grace means the story isn’t over. There is still time to be faithful in the public square.
Thus, voting isn’t just about choosing parties. We don’t vote for saviours. We vote for representatives, stewards. It’s about finding leaders who protect freedom and speak the truth—even when it’s costly. But it doesn’t end at the ballot box.
The real work begins afterwards. The Gospel doesn’t need a majority vote to thrive—but a bad policy can restrict its reach. And so can apathetic believers. So, vote—but don’t vanish. Let your witness carry forward in daily life, quiet faithfulness and public courage. That’s where the Kingdom grows.
Not every faithful Adventist will vote the same way—and that’s OK. Conscience may lead us to different decisions at the ballot box. What matters is voting prayerfully, Scripture in one hand and integrity in the other. We’re not called to political uniformity but to spiritual discernment.
We vote with the Gospel as our compass—not party loyalty or populism. We vote with conscience shaped by the cross, not the comment section. We vote not just for ourselves but for the vulnerable, the voiceless and the generations to come.
You are not just a voter. You are a steward of influence. A custodian of conscience. A witness in Babylon who doesn’t bow to the golden image, no matter how shiny the marketing.
In doing so, we’re advised to “be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16).
But what does that look like?
Well, do your homework. Don’t just listen but compare promises and performance. Ask yourself: Are these policies rooted in truth or swayed by trend? Do they protect conscience or punish it? Do they defend the voiceless or echo the powerful?
Pray. Fast. Ask others you trust.
Then cast your vote. Prayerfully, intentionally, with humility and holy boldness.
Because how we vote isn’t just a political act—it’s a reflection of who we worship, what we value and whether we’ve truly discerned the times.
The final word
This election, plant your feet. Begin with a prayer. A conversation. An act of courage. History rarely turns on applause lines. It shifts when ordinary people take holy risks.
You are not powerless. You are not voiceless. You are not irrelevant. You were born for such a time as this—not to win every debate but to stand anchored in grace. Not to control culture but to shape it. Not to survive the darkness but to shine through it.
So be discerning. Be hopeful. Be faithful.
And remember: the governments come and go. But the salt still flavours. The light still shines. And the Kingdom still stands!
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).
