Remember that scene from Miracle?
After a lousy performance, Coach Herb Brooks called his players back onto the ice before the fans had even left the arena.
“You guys don't want to work during the game? No problem. We'll work now.”
What followed was an agonizing series of sprints. Again and again, the exhausted players skated the length of the ice. And every time they finished, Brooks shouted, “Again!”
He had spent weeks trying to teach these young men that the name on the front of their jerseys mattered more than the name on the back. That they couldn't be common men if they wanted to accomplish something uncommon.
Finally, with his players barely able to stand, Mike Eruzione shouted out his name and hometown.
Brooks asked the same question he'd been asking for weeks: “Who do you play for?”
But this time, the answer was different.
“I play for the United States of America.”
And in that moment, something changed.
I hope you keep reading, but watching (or rewatching) the full clip is worth it!
They weren't just a collection of talented young men from competing colleges anymore. They were part of something far bigger than themselves. Their individual reputations, rivalries, and ambitions had to become secondary to the name on the front of their jerseys.
What seemed like pointless punishment became a defining moment for a team that would go on to accomplish one of the greatest upsets in sports history and capture the heart of a nation desperately in need of something to believe in.
As I've reflected on this week's election results and the losses suffered by those defending conservative and Biblical values in Maine, I keep coming back to that scene.
Not because I think we're on the verge of some miraculous political victory, but because I wonder whether we've lost sight of what we're actually fighting for.
We've reduced the great questions facing our state to factions, loyalties, talking points, parties, and personalities. And in doing so, we've diminished the significance of the very things we're fighting to defend.
Government isn't just a game of political power. Scripture teaches that governing authority has been established by God to reward what is good and punish what is evil. Yet today, that authority is often used to defy the very order God established.
At the League, we often say that what happens in the State House isn't merely a political battle. It's a spiritual one.
We're talking about the lives of children, born and unborn. The integrity of marriage and family. The right of parents to direct the upbringing, education, and healthcare of their children. The freedom to live according to conscience and faith.
These aren't small things. And they deserve more than the petty rivalries and personal ambitions that can so often consume our politics.
The story of Nehemiah comes to mind.
Jerusalem had been destroyed. Not defeated in an election. Destroyed. Yet Nehemiah didn't surrender to discouragement. He sought permission to return, rallied the people, and began rebuilding the walls.
But the work wasn't without opposition. His builders labored with their tools in one hand and their weapons in the other.
Nehemiah understood something we need to remember: Builders who refuse to fight will lose the wall. And fighters who refuse to build will eventually have nothing left to defend.
That's our challenge in Maine.
We have rebuilding to do. And there are still battles worth fighting.
So where do we go after a discouraging election?
First, remember whose name is on the front of your jersey. For those of us who follow Christ, our first allegiance isn't to a political party, a candidate, or our own ambitions. We bear the name of Christ. He is our King, and no election can change that. If our hope rests in political power, even our victories will eventually disappoint us. The lasting change Maine needs begins with changed hearts.
Second, remember what's at stake. Politics is not merely a contest for the next majority or another opportunity to accumulate power. Government shapes the conditions in which our families, churches, and communities live. We need to enter that arena with the seriousness it deserves, bringing Biblical principles and solutions that serve our neighbors and honor God.
Third, start rebuilding where you are. Lasting change doesn't begin in Augusta. It begins around your dinner table. A nation cannot remain strong when the families that form it are falling apart. If we want a different Maine, we must be willing to build it.
Fourth, keep praying for Maine. Pray for our leaders, our churches, our families, and for hearts to turn toward God. Political victories cannot accomplish what only God can do.
I don't know what the next two years will bring. I know there will be difficult battles ahead, and I know that political fortunes can change much more quickly than we sometimes imagine.
But our calling isn't dependent on whether we're winning or losing.
The young men on Herb Brooks's team didn't become champions by focusing on the last game they lost. They became champions when they remembered who they were playing for and committed themselves to something bigger than their own names.
We need to be people who are willing to do the same.
People who will put aside petty rivalries, personal ambitions, and the pursuit of political power for its own sake. People who understand that what we're fighting for is bigger than a party, bigger than an election, and bigger than ourselves.
The election is over. The work isn't.
Maine is worth rebuilding. And it's worth fighting for.
