It was a winter’s night in 2001. Before the Tampa had arrived to give John Howard his election wedge. Before 9/11 disfigured international relations.

The Australian Christian Lobby had convened a forum in suburban Brisbane in the lead up to the federal election and local member Kevin Rudd was running late.

Whilst Rudd was en route to join the other panel members those gathered stood to sing the national anthem. And to my surprise – aided by song sheets - we sang three verses.

As expected none of the aspiring politicians on the panel managed to inspire with their public speaking, and each seemed to spend at least part of the time declaring their faith or defending their lack of attendance at church rather than giving any time to exploring what it might mean for Christian principles to inform the action of government.

However, the evening gained momentum when Rudd arrived. Now it may have been easy to sparkle amongst the relative dross on display that night, but the clarity and force that Rudd brought to his message was refreshing. He began with a challenge to the largely Christian audience that their faith was not under attack. “Sing Christmas carols, celebrate Easter”, he encouraged them, in the full knowledge that we live in a secular society where such freedoms are cherished.

So it is not surprising to read Rudd’s lengthy foray into faith in politics in The Monthly (October 2006) with the added interest of his co-opting Bonhoeffer to the cause.

I endorse Rudd’s critique of the often simplistic politics of “vote for me I’m Christian” and his challenge to bring a deeper understanding of Christianity to the political sphere. However, that may remain a challenge when politicians criticise engagement by church leaders – of various faiths – who choose to inform debates with a view underpinned by faith as well as by other more worldly insights.

Regardless of your perspective on Christ’s message one common view is that it is transformative – and not necessarily comfortably so. Yet our society seems intent on building a life of comfort, stability and disengagement as though these are virtues. More dangerous still they are viewed as a right. The danger of such a belief lies in the fact that when the world changes – sometimes profoundly – we are confronted with our own vulnerability and are unprepared to deal with the world’s complexity and uncertainty. Comfort and stability are not in themselves virtues – they are simply the product of effort and circumstance. It is the values that underpin our labour and our relationships that will determine how we survive “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” that face us in the form of the climate crisis, drought and terrorism.

As Rudd has pointed out John Howard does not want to have a genuine debate about values, and so the focus moves to the “decline in civility in Australia” which is then addressed through the Values Education and Chaplaincy programs. (Useful as they are, distractions from the real debate nonetheless.)

On that winter’s night in 2001 questions were invited. With the song sheet in hand I asked, “in our national anthem we sing ‘for those who’ve come across the seas we’ve boundless plains to share’. Will politicians with a Christian faith perspective allow the story of Jesus the refugee to inform their response to asylum seekers in the twenty-first century?”

We got our answer in 2001.

Regardless of the outcome of the Labor leadership vote I hope Kevin Rudd is not cast out into the wilderness as so many prophets are.