Holy Rollers and Voter Suppression

Let’s be real: the only thing more Southern than voter suppression is pretending it’s not about race.

And right now, some of the most enthusiastic defenders of voter suppression are coming straight out of church pews. White, polished, praise-music-playing, mega-churchy pews. Where the coffee is free, the theology is shallow, and the sermons are suspiciously silent about justice – but not about elections.

They’ll say it's not about race. It's not about power. It’s just “keeping our elections safe.”

I say, oh please. We’ve read this book before. It’s just wearing a different dust jacket.

What They Forgot to Mention Between the Flannelgraphs

Let’s talk history – not just biblical, but Southern.

The Civil Rights Movement wasn’t just about buses and lunch counters. It was about ballots. Fannie Lou Hamer didn’t risk her life for abstract ideals – she wanted Black folks in Mississippi to vote without harassment, literacy tests, or losing their jobs. That kind of Love took action. It scared the hell out of white supremacy.

And it still does.

So what do you do when you're scared of Black, brown, poor, and young folks voting? Well, you don't say that out loud (you' don't want to be that obvious) you just:

- Close polling places in “the wrong neighborhoods.”
- Slash early voting days, especially on Sundays when Black churches organize “Souls to the Polls.”
- Create ID laws so strict that Granny can’t vote but a gun owner can.
- Redraw maps so politicians choose voters instead of voters choosing politicians.

And then you bless it with religion.

Because nothing keeps oppression in place like a well-timed “amen.”

When Religion Becomes a Smoke Screen

Here’s where the holy rollers come in.

Not the good kind like the folks that marched in Selma and sang “We Shall Overcome.” I’m talking about the ones who show up for prayer breakfasts but stay silent on injustice. The ones who claim ‘the gospel isn’t political’– right before clapping for folks who gerrymander in Jesus’ name. The ones that’ll rebuke you for mentioning justice but shout hallelujah for politicians who cut polling places in Black neighborhoods.

This isn’t about faith – it’s about fear. Fear of losing control. Fear of a future where white evangelicalism doesn’t hold the gavel. And when fear takes the wheel, it’ll run over justice every time.

The Gospel According to Love

But here's the good news: Love doesn't play by Jim Crow’s rules.

Love doesn’t wait for permission from politicians or pulpits that have sold their soul for a seat at Caesar’s table. Love don’t knock on the door of corrupt power—it kicks it down and sets the captives free. Love has no interest in pulpits or politicians who’d rather protect their power than their people.

The healthy religion isn’t about keeping the powerful in power. It’s about lifting up the lowly, empowering the silenced, and making sure every voice counts – including at the ballot box.

If your religion isn’t fighting for access – to food, to housing, to health care, and to the vote – it’s not justice. It’s just nostalgia with a choir.

Final Blessing (and a Warning)

So here’s the benediction:

If your church sings about freedom on Sunday but stays silent about voter suppression on Monday, that’s not worship—it’s complicity in four-part harmony.

If their gospel protects power but not the poor, it ain’t the good news—it’s just good branding.

If you see folks preaching about Jesus while pushing policies that make it harder for the vulnerable to vote, that ain’t faith. That’s fascism in a Sunday suit.

And don’t let their bad theology make you forget your sacred calling: to love loud, organize hard, and vote like somebody’s freedom depends on it—because it does.

Now go on. Make some holy trouble.

Love’s counting on you.

And so am I.