In his 1981 inaugural address, Ronald Reagan shared the story of the heroic Martin Treptow, a U.S. Army Private who gave his life to defend his country under enemy fire during World War I.

“We’re told that on his body,” Reagan said, “was found a diary. On the flyleaf under the heading, ‘My Pledge,’ he had written these words: ‘America must win this war. Therefore I will work, I will save, I will sacrifice, I will endure, I will fight cheerfully and do my utmost, as if the issue of the whole struggle depended on me alone.’”

Notice what Treptow did not write. He did not write, “America will probably lose this war, so why bother?” He did not wait for a favorable forecast before he picked up his rifle. He made a pledge to fight cheerfully, and he made it in the middle of a war whose outcome no one could guarantee.

That pledge ought to be ringing in the ears of every conservative in America right now, because the midterm elections are almost here, and a chorus of voices is working overtime to convince you to stay home.

You’ve heard them. Some are pundits who have already written the results. “The party in the White House always loses the midterms,” they tell us, as if history were a verdict rather than a record of what people chose to do. Some are pollsters and consultants who treat you like a statistic instead of a citizen. Some are opponents who would like nothing better than for you to sit this one out. And, sadly, some are on our own side — the doomsayers and the professional cynics who insist the system is too broken, the other side too powerful, and your vote too small to matter.

Their messages differ, but the goal is the same. They want you discouraged. Because a discouraged conservative is a conservative who doesn’t knock on doors, doesn’t make phone calls, doesn’t bring a neighbor to the polls, and doesn’t vote.

Let’s be clear about what discouragement is. It is not analysis. It is not realism. It is a tactic. And it only works if you let someone else govern your emotions.

As conservatives, we often ask, “Who decides? You? Or the federal government?” But this season raises another question, just as important: “Who decides how you feel about this fight? You? Or the talking heads on your screen?”

I won’t pretend that I don’t feel negative emotions. We all do. I read the same headlines you read. I see the same gloomy projections. But our emotions are capricious and untrustworthy. They will lead us astray. If we are going to lead — in our families, our communities, and our states — we must learn to subject our feelings to our principles, to what Abraham Lincoln called “cold, calculating, unimpassioned reason,” and, ultimately, to our God. A strong citizen does what he knows to be right, not what feels right after a bad news cycle.

And cold, unimpassioned reason tells a very different story than the prophets of doom.

Reason says that elections are not decided by forecasts. They are decided by who shows up. Reason says that close races — and there are always close races — are won and lost by the kinds of margins that a handful of committed volunteers can move. And reason says that the races getting the least attention deserve our attention, too. This election is about more than who controls Washington. It is about who governs our states, protects our liberties, and holds the line against government overreach. None of those fights gets easier when good people decide to sit them out.

The people telling you it’s hopeless aren’t giving you information. They’re giving you permission to quit. Don’t take it.

“Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel,” the Patriarch Jacob says of his son Reuben. Knowing what to do — that’s the easy part. We all know we should vote. We all know we should encourage our friends to vote. We all know we shouldn’t give in to despair. The real question is whether we have the moral and mental fortitude to put those ideals into practice when every voice around us says it won’t matter. If we let our volcanic passions drive the car — if we let every discouraging headline turn us from committed to indifferent — we will share in the curse of Reuben. And the people who wanted us to stay home will get exactly what they wanted.

Anger, fear, and depression are natural reactions to hard circumstances. Fighting cheerfully is not. That is why it has to be a choice. Joy in the battle, faith under fire — those are choices. Self-governance asks you to make those choices, to prove you have agency, and to liberate yourself from the bondage of your emotions and from the people trying to manipulate them.

If you are a victim of other people’s predictions, are you really in charge? Are you really practicing self-governance? According to Solomon, “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.” Before we can take back our statehouses or our country, we must first learn, with God’s help, to rule our own spirit — and refuse to hand that job to anyone else.

The book of Acts describes how the apostles were beaten for preaching in the name of Jesus and yet walked away “rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name.” That is unnatural. The world had every reason to tell them their cause was lost. They were few, they were powerless, and the authorities were against them. And yet they changed the world.

Today, it takes far less than persecution to send most of us into despair. A bad poll. A snarky segment. A post from someone who has already declared defeat. If the apostles could rejoice after a beating, surely we can find the joy to make a few more phone calls, knock on a few more doors, and cast our ballots with confidence.

Here is the truth the discouragers don’t want you to hear: cheerfulness is contagious, and so is resolve. When you show up with joy, your neighbors notice. When you refuse to be shaken, your friends take heart. One cheerful, determined conservative is worth a dozen gloomy ones, because he brings others with him.

So between now and Election Day, turn off the voices that tell you it’s over. Talk to your family. Talk to your church. Talk to the neighbor who hasn’t decided whether it’s worth the trip to the polls. Volunteer. Vote early if you can. And do it all cheerfully, as if the issue of the whole struggle depended on you alone.

Because in your precinct, in your district, in your state, it just might.

As the battle for the Republic heats up, we don’t need more experts predicting our defeat. We need more citizens like Martin Treptow — people who will work, sacrifice, endure, and fight cheerfully, no matter what the forecast says.

Can America depend on you?