We tend to think of Christmas in terms of its goodness. That’s true, of course. Both the secular Santa Claus and the Christian birth-of-Jesus versions of Christmas have a deep goodness in them: a time of hope, generosity, gift-giving, holiday cheer, singing carols, tasty treats, and time with family and friends. And none of this ugly politics.

Compare and contrast these two versions of Christmas for a minute, though. On one hand, you have Santa Claus: a magical elf who has apparently three powers: flying (or is that the reindeer?), gift wrapping, and teleporting into people’s houses. Oh, and keeping a 8.2-billion person list up-to-date. The end result? Holiday cheer, once a year.

On the other hand, we have the story of Jesus. The mighty creator of the universe (Colossians 1:15-17) deciding that the only way to rescue humanity from itself was to become human Himself (Philippians 2:6-11). Not just become human, but become human in a womb, and be born as a baby. He can sympathize with all of our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:14-16) because He has lived it all—gestation, birth, the fragility of infanthood, walking and talking, puberty, education, a career (presumably), friendship, fickle fame, political manuvering, temptation, betrayal.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:5)

The thing about Santa Claus is holiday cheer that comes ones a year, and we hope to forget the evil in the world around us for just a moment. The thing about Jesus is that He has already looked evil in the face — and won. His goodness isn’t a once-a-year candlelight. It is a bright floodlight in the darkness of the world. It reveals the darkness in our world.

The darkness in evil dictators and tyrannies.

The darkness in cults and self-help religions.

The darkness in deepest poverty and untold wealth.

The darkness in ideas that exchange the truth of God for a lie.

The darkness in murder and crime and abuse and human trafficking.

The darkness in classism and sexism and racism.

The darkness in our own countries and cities and towns.

The darkness in our own churches and neighborhoods and political tribes.

The darkness in untimely death and persistent sickness and hatred and broken relationships.

The darkness in our own hearts.

Jesus knows it all. He is not surprised by my faithlessness and doubt and lack of love. He knows it all. “God shows His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) Jesus’ goodness exposes the darkness, so that we see our utter need for Him.

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We tend to treat our politics as if they were sports: epic battles between our team (dressed in white and purveyors of all that is right) and the other team (death to the heathens!). Only one team can win, and it better be ours.

This understandable in many ways. After all, the Bible portrays some epic battles when Jesus wins over Satan. (Revelation 20:7-10)

The problem with the sports mindset — our team had better win! — is that we focus so much on our team winning that we blind ourselves to our own team’s problems. We start by choosing the better of two options, slink into choosing the least of two evils, and slouch into supporting our team at all costs.

Political division and competition is not the problem. Pointing out the speck in our opponent’s eye without taking the log out of our own, is.

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Christmas and the floodlight of Jesus’ goodness give us a way forward. We aren’t left with a Santa Claus simply hoping to bring out the goodness in the grinch. We are left with Jesus who is truly good, and the rest of us, who are not — and we look to Him for salvation. For those who follow Jesus, we have a responsibility to be faithfully obedient to Him each day (Mark 12:29-31). We are not left in fear (Romans 8:15), but are instead filled with His Spirit and adopted as His children when we turn to Him. We aren’t left with a battle that our team must win, rather, we are left with Jesus who has already won (John 16:33). Christmas doesn’t give us many detailed answers for policy positions. There is lots of room for discussion and debate. Christmas does give us the courage to call out darkness, wherever it is found. Christmas tells us the darkness has invaded humanity so deeply that the only rescue is an invasion by God Himself, in the form of a baby. It is only because of Jesus that we have hope.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:5)

Indeed. Merry Christmas, everyone!

I am cautious about supporting any political movement, but there is one I could whole-heartedly get behind: the return of politeness to our culture and political conversation.

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Let’s step away from politics for a moment into something more accessible: our everyday lives. I was (once again) trying to help the kids be polite to each other, and I realized: rudeness is usually a result of pride. I budge, or name-call, or bicker with you because I think my way is better than yours. I think I am smarter, more informed, and more important than you. The words I use with you reflect that attitude.

This is true even if my rudeness is a result of a short night’s sleep or a difficult day. While I have to remember to be sympathetic with myself and others in those scenarios, the root attitude remains the same: I think my feelings and my circumstances are more important than how I am treating you.

Politeness, on the other hand, reflects a mutual appreciation and respect. It reflects that you are made in God’s image (Genesis 5:1b), and you are much more valuable to Him than many sparrows (Matthew 10:31). It reflects humility: I don’t know everything, and it is very possible that you are going to teach me something that I never considered. It reflects the Golden Rule (Matthew 7:12). It’s how I’d like to be treated. 

Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you. (Matthew 7:12)

The Golden Rule is really an encapsulation of what I mean about being polite, though it encapsulates far more than just manners. Politeness isn’t about following Emily Posts’s Etiquette. Rules of behavior can be useful: they reflect cultural expectations of how people like to be treated. But they miss the heart of the issue: treating others like you’d like to be treated.

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There are definite challenges to politeness in everyday life. 

Growing up in Minnesota, I’m very familiar with “Minnesota nice.” Minnesota nice can be fantastic — but it can also be terrible, passive-aggressive deception. Politeness isn’t about keeping up appearances or avoiding necessary conflict. Politeness should always speak what is true, as long as it is useful and helpful (Ephesians 4:29). “Joe, you look stupid.” may, in fact, be true — but is rarely helpful. “Joe, I don’t think you are going to succeed as an advertisement for Levi’s.” might be exactly what Joe needs to hear, even if it hurts.

It’s easy to mistake verbal deference for politeness, when all we manage is obscuring our meaning. Asking “Would you like to hand me that dish?” seems accommodating — but do I actually care if you want to do any such thing?

Considerations of cultural expectation also come into play. The coasts of the North America tend to be much more direct in conversation than the Midwest — and, from what I hear, the Netherlands is even more direct. The specifics of politeness vary from culture to culture, but the heart issue — what do I think of you? — is the same.

Jesus was rude sometimes. “For you cross land and sea to make one convert, and then you turn that person into twice the child of hell you yourselves are!” (Matthew 23:15) Shocking language is occasionally useful to get a point across. It is only effective, however, when it is the exception, not the rule. More importantly, the heart issue remains: Jesus was aiming not to demean the religious leaders as much as to expose — to themselves! — their true motives. This is a far cry from how we use rudeness today in humiliating, vilifying, and dehumanizing those who do not see things exactly the same way we do.

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Politeness does not imply moral rightness. History (and fiction!) abound with people who used good manners to further their own, often evil, ends.

Politeness does not imply that one is thinking well of others. I might be belittling you even if my manners don’t betray it!

In the realm of politics, slick politicians who (politely) say one thing and do another are well-known. Politeness doesn’t guarantee anything, in and of itself. On the flip side, rudeness — with the rare exceptions we’ve discussed already — almost always guarantees an unloving heart.

[A] tiny spark can set a great forest on fire. And among all the parts of the body, the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself. (James 3:5b-6)

The unloving attitude of rudeness is corrosive and contagious. It is nothing but a race to the bottom. By purporting to shown one’s own greatness, it tears down not only everyone else but yourself, as well. Everyone loses. 

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I’m not an influencer. I don’t have followers. But, maybe, if you are reading this, you can join me: practicing a little more politeness every day, with family, friends, and coworkers — even about politics.

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(Thanks to my friend Robert and my wife Rita for reading drafts of this!)

empathy noun the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another (Merriam-Webster)

Even though the word only came into English in the early 1900s, empathy is a core part of Christianity. The Incarnation is empathy in action.

Some would argue that a too-prevalent virtue is a vice. I’m not sure that’s quite right, and I’m even less sure in the case of empathy. That said, does empathy need other virtues? Yes. In particular, empathy (by itself) can only lead to understanding of another person or community. It cannot determine what is right, just, or true. If we make a mistake with empathy, it is not because we empathize too much. Rather, we have forgotten other virtues as we empathize.

As usual, Jesus shows us the way. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.” (Hebrews 4:15, NIV) To pay the price for our sin, He (apparently) could have walked on the scene at age 33 and been crucified. Yet, He chose instead the path of the greatest empathy the world has ever seen, walking with us in every pattern of our lives. (See Philippians 2:6-8) He has completely and totally experienced all of the human weaknesses and temptations that we all have—and more.

Yet, He did not sin. He demonstrated empathy to the full, but He did not let empathy fully define Him. He instead kept Himself on the narrow path of Truth and Holiness while being more fully empathetic than anyone before or since.

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Empathy is not easy.

It is, perhaps, not so hard when you have shared experiences with another. I can most easily empathize with my kids when they experience something I also experienced when I was a kid. It takes more work the further the distance. There are a lot of experiences I have not had. It takes work to understand what it might be like to always be worried about how those in authority will treat me (due to race or ethnicity or gender or personal opinions). Or what it’s like to have to battle with urges that don’t match the way my body is put together. Or what it’s like to grow up with ever-present violence and never-present-enough parents or money or food. Or what it’s like to be homeless and friendless and starting over. Or what it’s like to be looked at askance when walking into a store.

Empathy takes work, but it is possible. It’s one of the gifts God has given all of humanity. Nonetheless, empathy still needs the other virtues.

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Apart from recent public comments about empathy (which I have little interest in discussing directly), what does empathy have to do with politics? Policy-making should be a rational process, shouldn’t it? That’s a false dilemma. Making policy requires a foundation in reason, truth, and empathy.

I’m a computer programmer by profession. Creating software to compute a mathematical result can perhaps be made from pure reason, but the moment the program has to interact with a human, that computer program requires empathy. Good software only comes by putting yourself in the seat of the user, and understanding their experience so that you can meet their needs as closely as possible.

Similarly, policy-making should be rational. It should reflect Truth and Justice and Humility and Mercy and Prudence and Beauty. Fiscal responsibility is important. It must also empathize with the people it affects. Carefully consider how we might follow the second Great Command—“Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:31)—without divorcing it from the anchor of Truth in the first Great Command—“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.” (Mark 12:30)

Music and lyrics by Jon Guerra. Listen online.

verse 1
Blessed are the powerful
Blessed are the rich
Blessed are the merciless
And the hypocrites
They will inherit the empires passing
It's the American Gospel

verse 2
Blessed are the superstars
Blessed are the famous
Blessed are the ones
Who make their faces ageless
They will inherit the magazine covers
Of the American Gospel

pre-chorus
Come to me, those who have something to give
Come to me, those who are likely to win
Come to me, those who are ruthless and proud of it, oh

chorus
Come pledge
Come swear
Come vote for the American Gospel
Don't wait
Come trade
Your soul for the American Gospel
Woah-oh-oh, oh

verse 3
Blessed are the speech police
Fundamentalists
Blessed are the rioters
Raising clenching fists
They will be filled with empathy for all
Except their enemies

pre-chorus
Come to me if you would take up the sword
A citizen honest, a patriot pure
Come to me, all who are willing to kill in the war

chorus
For country
For culture
And God and the American Gospel
For yours
Is more
And more of the American Gospel
Woah-oh-oh, woah
Woah-oh-oh, woah

outro
Blessed are the powerless
Blessed are the poor
Blessed are the merciful
Blessed are the pure
For they will inherit the kingdom of Heaven
And that's the heart of the Gospel

American Gospel by Jon Guerra. Listen online.

I like knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I am right. I like being on the side that understands how the world works and helps me make sense of it. I like asking and answering life’s big questions. I wonder, though: is such certainty a virtue?

Finding truth is an interesting process. It starts with not knowing the truth—after all, if you already knew the truth, why would you be seeking it? Seeking truth is an exploration: you don’t know what you are going to find. Each step provides new information and new opportunities to re-evaluate and re-interpret all that you’ve learned so far. Not everything you’ve learned is true. Or, perhaps, the interpretation that you put on some data has misled you, and you need to put away the explanation you had and try again.

How do we know when we find truth? We don’t. We gain certainty over time, we find that our ideas have predictive or explanatory power, but for any human being to claim with absolute certainty that they know the truth, without any room for doubt, is claiming to be an infinite, all-knowing deity. 

At the same time, don’t we operate as if we know truth all day, every day? “Brush your teeth or you’ll get cavities.” “Be kind so others will be kind to you.” “You’ll sell more if you lower your prices.” Most of the time, it works out fine. It’s a convenient shortcut to the laborious process of finding truth for ourselves: we choose to trust certain others who are also on the truth-seeking path.

A convenient shortcut, at least, until we find that our trust has been misplaced.

Doubt can help find truth.

Not the wishy-washy kind of doubt that cannot make commitments. Not a cynicism that is never willing to place trust. Rather, doubt as in a willingness to acknowledge our own human limitations to knowing what is true, and a drive to continue on the path of seeking truth, rather than accepting the status quo. Doubt as in, “I might not know yet, but I want to find out!” Doubt as in still being willing to ask the hard questions.

Some will say that doubt is unhealthy for a Christian. Doesn’t Scripture tell us we must believe and not doubt? (Mark 11:23, James 1:6) Wasn’t Thomas chided for not believing in the risen Christ?

Eight days later the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them. The doors were locked; but suddenly, as before, Jesus was standing among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and look at my hands. Put your hand into the wound in my side. Don’t be faithless any longer. Believe!” 

“My Lord and my God!” Thomas exclaimed. 

Then Jesus told him, “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.” (John 20:26-29)

I’m deeply encouraged by Jesus’ response to Thomas. He could have chewed Thomas out for his lack of belief and left it at that. He could have insisted that Thomas just “start believing.” Instead, He chose to meet Thomas right where he was at, and proved to him that He was risen. He stepped directly into Thomas’ doubt, and filled it the only way possible: with Truth.

Why all this “philosophy of doubt” on a blog purportedly about politics?

Our politics would be a whole lot healthier if we allowed ourselves room for doubt. Maybe the other side isn’t as evil as I thought. Maybe “they” are not wrong in everything. Maybe my political heroes…shouldn’t be. Maybe some of the arguments from the other side actually make sense. Maybe I like some people with differing political viewpoints. Maybe I should keep my opinion, but for different reasons than I thought. Maybe a compromise is in order. Maybe my opinion is for myself and not a policy for other people. Maybe the assumptions I’ve had since I was a kid are more inherited than truthful. Maybe the Jesus doesn’t fit neatly into one political party or the other.

Doubting is tiring. Seeking truth is difficult. It is worth the journey.

I called my representatives again. This time, about the relationship of the United States with Canada. Here’s (roughly) what I said:

Hi! My name is David Hjelle, and I live in Fargo, North Dakota.

I have a comment about the United States’ relationship with Canada. 

North Dakota is home to the International Peace Garden, which is called “A celebration of peace, a living monument to the ideals of friendship and cooperation among nations.” Canada and the United States have had an excellent friendship for a long time. Why is the United States being such a rude friend?

My wife is originally from Canada, and most of her family lives there. They are concerned: some are even avoiding traveling to the United States because they no longer trust for their safety crossing the border. I struggle to see any reason all this uncertainty is necessary or helpful.

Please do whatever you can so that the United States regains a mutually respectful relationship with Canada.

Is the United States a “Christian nation?” Should it be? A “Christian nation” is difficult to define, so I’d like to ask a different question: why should it be?

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because we should return to our roots. Do we have Christian roots as a nation? I’m skeptical of any extreme claims, either of the founders being all secular or all born-again Christians. History is full of people who have claimed Christianity in words, but have never known Jesus. (Matthew 7:23) The United States owes a lot to Judeo-Christian values, but is it divinely inspired? 

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because  democracy is a Christian form of government. Yes, our government is founded on Christian principles such as “all people are created equal”—and we can celebrate that!—but that’s far from saying it is the only Christian form of government. No Biblical passage proposes democracy.

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because God’s laws work best. Of course God’s laws work best! But, which laws do we enforce? Stricter laws against coveting? (Exodus 20:17) Or adultery? (Exodus 20:14) Or against foolish talk and crude joking? (Ephesians 5:4) Who gets to decide?

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because the United States is God’s new chosen nation. What in Scripture says that any nation would ever again fill such a role?

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because we Christians no longer want to be harassed for our beliefs. Or, we want “our team” to be in charge. I can’t help thinking of Jesus’ Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would like them to do to you.” (Luke 6:31) Pushing others around is not Christlike. While we ought to work for justice (Micah 6:8), to avenge is God’s work. (Romans 12:19)

Maybe we should be a “Christian nation” because we want revival in America. I want to see people turn to Jesus! The Biblical example, though, is not revival via government. Rather, the story of Scripture is one of repentant and faithful believers pointing people to the Lord—sometimes as leaders (like David or Nehemiah), sometimes as outcasts (like Jeremiah or Jesus).

What then?

Consider this phrase in the 1776 Pennsylvania Constitution:

[N]o authority…shall in any case interfere with…the right of conscience in the free exercise of religious worship.

I love this. Let’s again pursue freedom of conscience! That’s a nation I—as a Christian—would be proud to be part of.

“God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. 
God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 
God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth. 
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied.
God blesses those who are merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 
God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God. 
God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God. 
God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. 

God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you and lie about you and say all sorts of evil things against you because you are my followers. Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven. And remember, the ancient prophets were persecuted in the same way.” (Matthew 5:3-12)

“But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!” (Galatians 5:22-23)

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

“Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone.” (Romans 12:18)

Most of these are extremely familiar passages of Scripture to those who have spent much time in a church, even if only in children’s classes. While this is from an exhaustive list, I’d argue it is a good sketch of one thing in particular: the kind of character and personality that we, as Christians, ought all be striving for. Am I jealous? Do I demand my own way? Do I keep a record of being wronged? Am I irritable? (I was today.) Do I work for peace? (What does that mean, exactly?) Am I patient and gentle and self-controlled?

While I have lots of questions about what exactly some of these passages mean, the parts I do understand show a pretty unmistakably clear picture of what a Jesus-follower is aiming for. To further bring it all into focus, Jesus came Himself and lived His life to show us what these mean. His lived example always catches me off guard. He doesn’t fit in the boxes we construct for Him.

Why do I reference Christian character in an essay about politics in the United States?

First, to be clear: I don’t expect non-Christians to act like Christians. How could I? It is only by the power of the Holy Spirit that any of us start to show His love.

Second, I don’t call the United States a Christian country. This requires a bit of nuance, I suppose: much of our history consists of people seeking freedom to practice their version of Christianity. Many founders were Christians, though far from all. The “all men are created equal” from the Declaration of Independence is a phrase that could only come from a religion that insisted that God not only created all people, but that God Himself died for all people, of every gender or race or ethnicity. (Galatians 3:28) And yet…that is a far cry from a nation that is Christian. While this is a much larger discussion (maybe in another essay), I’m deeply skeptical that any nation will ever commit itself to following Christ until the New Heavens and the New Earth. The historical nation of Israel couldn’t do it—why should we have any more success?

So, why do I reference Christian character in an essay about politics in the United States?

I don’t expect non-Christians to act like Christians: and yet the Christian standard is how I judge right and wrong.

I don’t call the United States a Christian country, nor do I expect it to be: and yet the Christian standard is how I judge the behavior of my country and her leaders.

There is no such thing as a short-cut in ethics or morality. There is no doing evil so that good may result. Being mean-spirited in the interest of doing the right thing is still mean—and nothing at all like the fruit of the Spirit mentioned above.

I care deeply about character: does a person have the strength to do the right thing even when it is hard? Even when no one sees (to steal the title of an Os Guinness study)? Even when the crowd cheers for them to do wrong? Can they turn the other cheek to their enemies? Are they willing to appear weak in public for the sake of doing what is right?

Christians can debate about all sorts of policies, just as we do with theology. There are all sorts of questions to be asked! We can debate about exactly what role one’s faith or religion ought to play in politics. And you are welcome to disagree with me about the importance of character in politics! (It is, after all, quite a few rungs down the ladder of importance in critical issues.)

My conviction, however, is firm: character matters. Even in politics.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Emma Lazarus (in the Statue of Liberty)

Those last lines give me chills every time. I think I’ve realized why: not only are they beautiful, but they also reflect Jesus Himself. He is in the business of rescuing those who can’t rescue themselves, uplifting those who are downtrodden, giving rest to those who are weary, being a home for those who are homeless, and being a good Father for the fatherless.

Your thunder roared from the whirlwind;
the lightning lit up the world!
The earth trembled and shook.
Your road led through the sea,
your pathway through the mighty waters—
a pathway no one knew was there!

Psalm 77:18-19 (about the Exodus)

I’ve long been curious about Biblical characters that are upheld as faithful believers and yet worked for not just secular but often downright evil governments. They had varying degrees of authority and influence. Joseph was second in command of Egypt (Genesis 41:41); Esther became the queen (Esther 2:17) and Mordecai the king’s right-hand man (Esther 10:3); Daniel was advisor to four kings of two or three different kingdoms; Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were administrators over Babylon (Daniel 3:12); Obadiah was a palace supervisor under evil King Ahab (1 Kings 18:3-4); Nehemiah was cupbearer for the king (Nehemiah 1:11). But we are never—as far as I know—given an instruction manual for exactly how that these figures carried out their political duties while maintaining their convictions. I’d love to know more.

We are, of course, given some stories. As I am writing this, I realize I should spend some more time in the stories. There may not be a guidebook, but there are examples for us to follow.

The sermon series we’ve been going through at church has been going through the book of Daniel. A recent sermon was on Daniel 4, and I noticed something I hadn’t caught before in Daniel’s response to King Nebuchadnezzar’s dream: “King Nebuchadnezzar, please accept my advice. Stop sinning and do what is right. Break from your wicked past and be merciful to the poor. Perhaps then you will continue to prosper.” (Daniel 4:27) The context is that Daniel has just told the king that his dream means that he will be driven to live with animals until “you come to understand that Heaven rules.” A few things jump out at me:

1. “Stop sinning…” Daniel is not one to mince words in the face of authority. He is well aware that the King—whom he serves!—is doing evil, and has the courage to tell the king so.
2. “…and do what is right.” Daniel encourages the king in righteousness. More on that in a bit.
3. “Break from your wicked past…” Daniel reiterates his encouragement to repent.
4. “…and be merciful to the poor.” Wait, hold on a second. (Note: other translations have “showing mercy to the oppressed.”) Showing mercy to the poor and oppressed was the number one way the king ought to respond?

“Perhaps then you will continue to prosper.” Daniel is really quite clear: how does he suggest that Nebuchadnezzar might continue to be great?

1. humble himself
2. repent (always starting with I or we not you or they)
3. do what is right, specifically, for one thing:
4. be merciful to the poor

I don’t claim that Daniel’s suggestion was a promise from God for Nebuchadnezzar or anyone else, nor do I claim that it is a sure-fire way to maintain greatness for any person or any nation. (One verse a theology does not make.) I do claim that Daniel’s suggestions are perfectly consistent with the rest of Scripture on how to be rewarded eternally.