Spring 2026 · Vol. 55 No. 1 · pp. 59–63
Faith in the Public Square: Serving Christ in the Halls of Power
A Calling at the Intersection of Faith and Public Life
When I first entered political life some forty years ago, I did so not as a “Christian politician” but as a follower of Jesus who happened to be called into politics. My guiding aspiration was to serve faithfully, shaped by the prophet Micah’s admonition “to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Mic 6:8). That text became both compass and comfort in a vocation that often placed me at the intersection of faith and power—a place of both opportunity and tension.
In a culture addicted to cynicism, the quiet witness of faithful service may be the most radical form of discipleship. . . . The renewal of civic life will not come by seizing the tools of power but through the quiet courage of those who bear witness to a higher kingdom.
p. 60 I remember vividly the night of January 23, 2006, when Canadians elected a new Conservative government after thirteen years of Liberal government. Amid the celebration, a local constituent approached me, gently poked a finger into my chest, and exclaimed, “Mr. Fast, now that you’ve been elected to represent us in Ottawa, I hope you’re not going there to shove religion down people’s throats!”
Slightly taken aback, I paused for a moment, then smiled and asked, “Sir, which of my faith values would you like me to leave behind? The call to love my neighbor? To act with compassion, forgiveness, or grace? How about joy, justice, and mercy? What about kindness and peacemaking?”
I think he got the point.
That useful confrontation brought into sharp relief the tension I would continually face throughout my time in public life: how to live an authentically Christian life within a secular and often skeptical environment.
Faith in a Secular Age
Contemporary Canada, like much of the Western world, has moved beyond its Judeo-Christian foundations. Public institutions, once shaped by biblical moral reasoning, now function within a largely secular frame. Yet the marginalization of faith is hardly new. The prophets and apostles themselves navigated pagan courts and indifferent empires. Joseph served Pharaoh; Daniel advised Nebuchadnezzar; Esther risked her life before Xerxes. None of these rulers honored Israel’s God, yet each benefited from the integrity and counsel of God’s servants.
In the New Testament, Paul’s encounter in Athens offers a model for faithful engagement. Facing the philosophers of the Areopagus, he quoted their poets, acknowledged their spiritual hunger, and pointed them toward the “unknown God” revealed in Christ (Acts 17). Paul demonstrated that believers need not abandon truth to enter dialogue. We can participate respectfully and intelligently in public discourse, bearing witness through both reason and grace.
For Christians today, this example affirms that public witness does not require cultural compromise or dominance. Faithful presence—thoughtful, humble, and courageous—remains both possible and necessary.
The Challenge of Integrity
Politics is a team sport, demanding cooperation, compromise, and pragmatism. Yet the collaborative ideal often deteriorates into competition and ambition. In Ottawa, I quickly discovered how the pursuit of influence can p. 61 eclipse the pursuit of integrity. The temptation to “climb the greasy pole of ambition,” as one observer put it, is universal.
For Christians, the antidote is not withdrawal but groundedness: remembering that our ultimate loyalty belongs not to party or power, but to Christ. Integrity in public life involves transparency, humility, and moral consistency. It requires rejecting cynicism and modeling civility even when the political culture rewards the opposite.
The Apostle Peter’s counsel remains apt: “Live such good lives among the pagans that . . . they may see your good deeds and glorify God” (1 Pet 2:12). Integrity is not political strategy; it is discipleship made visible.
Power and the Temptation to Dominate
Some believers, reacting to cultural marginalization, view politics as a means of reclaiming influence for the church. The recent rise of Christian nationalism illustrates this impulse. But to conflate faith with political control is to distort both. As Chuck Colson once cautioned, “The Kingdom of God will not arrive on Air Force One.” Laws can restrain evil, but only grace transforms hearts.
Scripture calls followers of Christ not to rule triumphantly but to serve sacrificially. Government, when rightly ordered, promotes the common good. When turned into an instrument of tribal identity, it corrupts both faith and public life. The cross, not the sword, remains the defining image of Christian authority.
Thus, the Christian politician must view power as stewardship rather than entitlement—a tool to serve, not to dominate.
From Withdrawal to Engagement
Historically, Mennonites have wrestled with the relationship between faith and the state. Our Anabaptist forebears, Die Stillen im Lande (the “Quiet in the Land”), chose withdrawal as a strategy for faithfulness amid persecution. Their legacy of peace and simplicity deserves deep respect. Yet in democratic societies, complete separation can drift into abdication.
Love of neighbor compels engagement. The privilege of shaping laws that protect justice and dignity carries moral responsibility. Democracy is a fragile gift, one that depends on citizens willing to steward it with wisdom and restraint.
Faithful engagement does not mean imposing belief. It means engaging with humility and winsomeness, seeking the welfare of the city (Jer 29:7), and bringing the fragrance of Christ into the civic arena. p. 62
Following Christ into Politics
My own calling to public life began early. On November 3, 1964—the night of the US presidential election between Lyndon B. Johnson and Barry Goldwater—my father sat me, a nine-year-old boy, before a black-and-white television set. He explained the drama of democracy, the contest of ideas, and the honor of public service. That evening, a seed was planted.
Through adolescence and university, my fascination with politics grew. While my siblings pursued other interests, I devoured newspapers, attended election rallies, and imagined representing my community in Ottawa someday. Decades later, that dream became reality: first in municipal office, then as a Member of Parliament, and eventually as Canada’s Minister of International Trade.
Those years brought extraordinary opportunities—and equally formidable tests. I helped lead Canada’s negotiations on major trade agreements with the European Union, South Korea, Ukraine, and the original TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership) countries. I also sponsored legislation to protect children from online predators (Bill C-277), defended the sanctity of life against the expansion of assisted dying (Bill C-314), and introduced and successfully had passed a motion establishing Mennonite Heritage Week (M-111). The intention of the latter was to “recognize the contributions that Canadian Mennonites have made to building Canadian society, their history of hope and perseverance, the richness of the Mennonite culture, their role in promoting peace and justice both at home and abroad, and the importance of educating and reflecting upon Mennonite heritage for future generations.”
Each initiative reflected, in its own way, an attempt to “act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly” within a complex, pluralistic arena.
Mentorship and the Formation of Leaders
Among my most meaningful experiences in Ottawa was mentoring young staffers and interns—future leaders in politics, law, business, and public service. These were bright, idealistic individuals seeking to integrate conviction with vocation. Together we explored what it means to serve faithfully without losing one’s soul.
Public life tests both competence and character. It demands not only skill but resilience. I often reminded emerging young leaders that politics, though messy, can still be redemptive when approached as service. Canada needs men and women who combine policy insight with spiritual depth, who are fluent in both truth and grace. p. 63
The Cost and the Reward of Public Service
No honest account of political vocation can ignore its personal cost. The pressures of public life—relentless scrutiny, long absences from family, the erosion of privacy—can strain even the strongest faith. Yet for those who view their work as calling rather than career, politics can become an arena of worship.
Every bill that protects the vulnerable, every agreement that fosters opportunity, every constituent helped in crisis can be an act of stewardship before God. In a culture addicted to cynicism, the quiet witness of faithful service may be the most radical form of discipleship.
Reasoning Together in a Fractured Age
Faith and politics will always exist in tension. The goal is not winning every political battle but faithfulness—to God, to conscience, and to the common good. History offers luminous examples: Wilberforce’s abolitionism, Luther’s courage, Bonhoeffer’s costly witness. Their legacies remind us that conviction anchored in humility can change nations.
In our polarized age, Isaiah’s appeal resounds anew: “Come, let us reason together” (Isa 1:18). To reason together requires listening, empathy, and a commitment to truth pursued in love. These are disciplines not only of democracy but of discipleship.
Let us therefore enter the public square not as conquerors but as servants: acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly. The renewal of civic life will not come by seizing the tools of power but through the quiet courage of those who bear witness to a higher kingdom.
