In a recent op-ed piece, my friend Jim Wallis noted that while a vast majority of Americans see themselves as religious, the politicians who seem to relate to them best on matters of faith are Republicans. Wallis says that by "withdrawing into secularism" and allowing the right to define religious issues, Democrats are "depriving Americans of an important debate."

I'm not interested in promoting either party's agenda, but I am interested in that debate. Whichever way you look at it, the intersection of church and state is shaping public and private life more and more, whether the fight is over a Ten Commandments monument, abortion or gay marriage.

This debate affects me personally as a frequent speaker on nonviolence in public schools. In order not to offend anyone I have to be very careful when and how I use the word "God."

That's a far cry from the Civil Rights era, when thousands of us participated in a movement that was as spiritual as it was political. In those days, few people hid the faith that shaped their outlook on life. Martin Luther King quoted Jesus publicly, on everything from humility and turning the other cheek to forgiving one's enemies. From a faith perspective, he took on not only racism, but materialism and militarism as well.

The day before Martin Luther King was murdered he said, "Like anybody, I would like to live a long life...But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will." We must have this same desire if we are going to survive the fear and violence and mass confusion of our time. And we should be as unabashed about letting people know that it is our religious faith that motivates us, regardless of the setting or the consequences.

Jesus told his followers that they would be "dragged into synagogues and prisons and before kings and governors for my sake." To me, these words are a call to action, especially for those of us who claim to be people of faith. They challenge us to stop hiding, and to let ourselves be used as instruments of God.

The first person who comes to mind when I think of someone who has done this is a wheelchair-bound man who is so disabled that he can't even breathe on his own. Steven McDonald is a detective with the NYPD. He was shot in the line of duty by a teenage gunman, and one of the three bullets paralyzed him from the neck down.

Today, Steven spends his days going from one high school assembly to another, telling teenagers about how he and his wife, Patti Ann, have struggled through anger and despair and come to terms with his life-changing injuries. They have forgiven his assailant and become ambassadors of love and peace. He knows that, incapacitated as he is, God can still use him. And he's not ashamed to talk in public about what motivates him.

If each one of us, regardless of our religious persuasion, focused on doing God's will, every problem we face would soon be answered. None of us would be depressed or lonely, and even the most faint-hearted person would find courage. The worst enemies would be reconciled, and we would love and forgive one another.

--Johann Christoph Arnold (www.ChristopherArnold.com) is an author and minister with the Bruderhof Communities (www.bruderhof.com).