As a pastor of the United Church of Christ, I inherit a liberal faith tradition. By liberal I mean a faith that is not static, chiseled in stone or received from on high. Instead, it is more like a conversation between transcendent truths and the complexities of life. Truths are forged on the anvil of human experience. The line between principle and practice is never straight.

What truths? Preeminently, these two: first, that every human being is valued and worthy and, second, that creation itself is holy, sacred and good. In the book of Genesis, God declares, “humankind is created in the image of the Creator.” Early on the ancient writers posed this declaration in the form of a question. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” This is what Cain asked God when God confronted the murderer for killing his brother Abel.

These are the ponderings passed down from our ancestors. Whispered into our hearts is the voice that says, “What does it mean to be my brother’s/sister’s keeper?”

The words of our forebears come to us less as rigid platitudes, certainties about how we should act in any given moment, and more as a North Star pointing the way, guiding us to see the difference between good and evil, right and wrong. We draw strength today from our leaders in the past who have faithfully followed their North Star.

When our nation was being torn apart over slavery, and when Kansas became the showdown for this fight, our abolitionists ancestors listened to their conscience. They left the comforts of the East, to brave a new life on the frontier because they heard the voice that said, “Slavery is an abomination in the eyes of God.”

One of Lawrence’s preeminent abolitionist leaders and the pastor at Plymouth Church — the church I served for 24 years — was the Rev. Richard Cordley.

He railed against the evil of slavery. This attracted the attention of William Quantrill who set out to “get” the abolitionist preacher. On Aug. 21, 1863, Quantrill and his band of ruffians unleashed terror on Lawrence, killing 150 citizens and setting the city on fire. The reverend and his wife, Mary, escaped unharmed after friends ferried them across the Kansas River. Cordley practiced what he preached. Richard and Mary took into their home Lizzie, a runaway slave. They willingly defied the Fugitive Slave Law.

Throughout our national history, faith leaders of all traditions have awakened the nation’s conscience to live out her ideals. One hundred years after the attack on Lawrence, Martin Luther King Jr. stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and shared his vision. He dreamt of a day when little Black children and little white children would sit down together at the table of brotherhood. With the ancient words of the prophets whispering into his ears, King compelled us as a nation to look into our souls and see the yawning chasm between our ideals and our reality.

For some time now, the impact of our faith traditions, which shaped and were shaped by leaders like Cordley and King, has waned. Participation in religious organizations is in decline. According to Gallup, on any given weekend, about three in 10 U.S. adults attend religious services, down from 42% two decades ago.

We live in a time too when other voices spew falsehoods. Social media and other forms of communication have become toxic. We are tempted to tune out.

We dare not. Soon we will be choosing our next president. Like the 1850s, history is offering up another showdown moment. Once again, the timeless quest for human dignity and the care for all creation are on the line. Consider the threats:

• Fellow citizens by the color of their skin or country of origin are singled out, smeared as subhuman.

• Our children are unable to walk into a school building without fear of being shot.

• Our warming planet cries out for relief.

In this moment, our conscience — the voices of our ancestors whispering into our ears — is calling us to match our words with our deeds. And yes, people of good faith will differ on how best to put principle into practice. Accepting this is the essence of democracy.

Still, conscience is a powerful thing, a fire burning within. On Nov. 5 let’s bring some to the voting booth.

— Peter Luckey is a pastor of the United Church of Christ.