I am struggling to hold so many truths in the aftermath of yesterday’s elections.
I hold the truth that no matter who has won and will win, we are still living together in this country and most of us will continue on with our lives in much the same way we have been living. The sun will rise tomorrow, and the sunset will very likely be beautiful. This is not the end of the world.
AND I hold the truth that lives are at stake in this election; the lives of those who will die of COVID if common-sense measures aren’t taken to stop it’s spread; the human and animal lives that will be lost due to devastated natural spaces and increased pollution; the lives of those seeking asylum in our country; the lives of those denied medical care due to poverty and gender and trans discrimination . . . and more, so many more. So many lives.
I hold the truth that most of my fellow citizens have basically kind hearts and are worthy of consideration and respect.
AND I hold the truth that many people in the United States enthusiastically voted for a presidential candidate who has mocked disabled people, encouraged white supremacists, and sexually assaulted women.
I hold the truth that we should not put our trust “in princes, in mortals in whom there is no help” (Psalm 146:3).
AND I hold the truth that our “princes” matter; that mortals control policies that deeply affect our lives. No candidate is perfect, to be sure. But some are distinctly better than others–from a love your neighbor/let justice roll down perspective.
I hold the truth that, in the end, the love, justice, peace, and joy of God will prevail—that the resurrection of Jesus signifies the ultimate defeat of the powers of evil and death.
AND I hold the truth that God longs for us all to experience that love and justice and peace and joy now, in this life.
I hold the truth that we are held in the almighty and loving hands of God who provides rest for our weary souls.
AND I hold the truth that we are called and empowered to work with God in the world to enact justice, to make peace, to live out the fiercest and hardest kinds of love.
I am holding so much. And I know you are, too. Perhaps we can hold it together. Or set it all down and I’ll watch your stuff while you take a nap or a bathroom break or whatever it is you need right now. Then you can watch my stuff. Then we can hold our truths together, again.
Because, really, holding truths—however hard and inconvenient—seems like about the most important thing we can do in these days.