There will be joy in the morning.

Friends, I am really sad. I spent most of the day after the election in tears and have spent subsequent days heavy with the sense of existential dread.

Experiencing an election abroad is an interesting thing. On one hand, it’s nice to be physically distanced from the chaos. On the other, I wish that I could be in community and collectively grieve the way I would like. It feels similar to walking through the halls of your high school knowing that people are spreading rumors about you. I can hear the election whispers as I walk through the train station and see the knowing looks as soon as I open my mouth and people discover that I’m an American. It feels like grieving a loss publicly. I understand that people are curious and opinionated and that this will impact them too, but right now I just don’t want to deal. I’d rather pull up my hood and go hide in a dark corner where I can watch wholesome movies until all of this passes.

The prevailing sentiment amongst my friends and family at home who did not support Trump seems to be, “I just don’t understand.” In fact, my first message to my mom the day after the election was, “I guess my question to start the day is: Why do men hate women so much?” I feel like a little kid who needs their mom to explain how a bad guy can get rewarded. I’m curious, too, what it’s like for people who live in more homogenous political communities than I do. Approximately one third of the people I love most in this world (tbh, it might be closer to half) voted for Trump. So, if I still don’t understand and I know these people, love these people, and see how they serve their neighbors well, then what’s it like for everyone else??

Growing up, I knew that the Constitution mattered and that it protected our freedoms but I took it for granted. It wasn’t until this summer when I spent a few days at a major military installation outside of DC that it became personal. I met men and women who had bravely and selflessly signed their lives and lifestyles away to protect the Constitution, a sacrifice I am not so willing to make. I saw how seriously they took their roles and how much honor they had in serving their country. These men and women chose their professions knowing the risks, knowing that they might disagree with the choices made, but ultimately trusting that their government would honor their lives by upholding the values of the Constitution. It makes me sick to think that we have a returning leader who has made it plainly clear in words and deed that he could not care less. 

This need to protect the freedoms we’ve been given has only been magnified while I’ve been in London. Over the last two months, I have had countless conversations with people whose home countries span the globe and who have graciously shared their stories with me. I spent one afternoon with a West African woman who grew up under colonial rule and who now lives in a country whose wealth was built on the backs of her people. I spoke with another woman from South America whose nation of origin quite literally cannot feed its residents because of corrupt government dealings. And, I’ve had several conversations with people from the UK who have seen how their own system of government has veered away from social good and towards corporate profit.

These conversations have made me reflect on many things, but they have also made me proud to be an American. Do you all realize how lucky we are?! What foolishness is it then to pretend as if we aren’t. What foolishness is it then to not take elections seriously. Even the least of us have more privilege than most of the world. 

These conversations have also reminded me how profoundly influential the United States is. For better or for worse, we set the tone. My new friend from West Africa shared, “When America catches a cold, the whole world catches a cold.”

I am angry at Republicans who have become so comfortable in their present circumstances, so certain that true suffering could not happen to them that they have chosen to elect a leader who disregards basic freedoms. It feels like the ultimate slap in the face to people around the globe who did not have a choice when their dictators rose to power. 

I am equally angry at Democrats for their entitlement that leads to complacency. How many people have you heard say something along the lines of, “That’s it. I’m moving to a different country”? First of all, do you think suffering disappears in other countries? Do you think corruption ceases to exist as soon as you cross a border? Scroll up, see the stories from my friends that tell you that isn’t true. Even the most developed, Western, technologically advanced countries are still struggling with many of the exact same things that we are in this moment.

To me, these responses are the flip side of the same coin, both rooted in a sense of invincibility. I believe that the most important thing for me to share with you in this moment, no matter who who you are or who you voted for, is that our freedoms are a gift. They are not a right and they are not a guarantee. Suffering is universal and so are corrupt governments. For my Christian friends, these truths are written all over the Bible. There is no room for Christian nationalism… that concept did not start with Jesus. 

Regarding our ability to make choices and let our voices be heard, we, as the United States of America, have been the exception but we are not the rule.

We could choose the path of invincibility that leads to supporting a man like Trump. Or, we could choose the path that leads to leaving the country or resenting our neighbors. But I will choose a different path. 

I will choose the path that zooms out and tells me that every single generation before this moment has dealt with a major and prolonged challenge that threatened their quality of life. This moment in time is not unique, neither are we. 

I will choose the path that seeks to humanize, build bridges, and offer compassion to those who think like me and those who don’t.

I will choose the path that recognizes that we need to do better not just for us, but for all those who are looking to us.

I will choose the path that listens instead of argues. Believe it or not, there are reasons why people voted for Trump that go beyond hatred and actually speak to the real challenges in their real lives. I may still be struggling to understand them, but I have spent enough time in rural communities to know that they exist. We need to listen to them, just as they need to listen to us. Perhaps then we can get somewhere together. 

I will choose the path that stays, that invests, that works in partnership with others, and that defends the vulnerable no matter how challenging it becomes. I have been struck most recently by this quote from Martin Niemöller:

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist. 

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist. 

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew. 

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me. 

Christians, I am speaking directly to you. Our primary call in this life is to love our neighbor, no matter what they believe, no matter how they identify, no matter what country they came from. Let us choose the path that reflects Jesus in light beams to this world, holding truth and conviction in the same hand. We have a choice here. Don’t squander it. 

And finally, I will choose the path of hope. The path that shows me that there will be joy in the morning. That this life is long but that we have a good God who will not give up his seat on the throne no matter who is in power and no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in. This is a moment; it is not the end. 

I have not done this perfectly and I will not do this perfectly. All you have to do is listen to one phone conversation with me and my friends or family to know that more often than not my snark overwhelms my principle. I will stumble along the path, maybe sometimes turning down the wrong one before making my way back. It will be challenging and fatiguing, but I hope I will not walk this path alone. I hope you will join me. 

There is goodness in this world. In fact, if you look to some of the populations that have materially suffered the most you will often find an overwhelming sense of optimism. Perhaps they have more readily accepted that any good thing is a gift that cannot be taken for granted. I hope that we can be equally grateful. We have so much.

If, like me, you are confused and emotionally exhausted today, that’s alright. Go make some soup, listen to some good music and put on a Christmas movie (it’s ok, I give you permission). But then please show up again tomorrow. We need you. 

Titular Song: Joy in the Morning by Tauren Wells

And, if you need music recs this weekend, James Bay’s new album is great.