Sad. We are so sad. And sad feels like the most appropriate emotion to have right now. I long for connection with others who are grieving the loss of what we believed our country stood for. Open arms for the tired, the hungry, the poor. But the truth is, we weren't ever really good at that. We are good at greed, colonization, building wealth on the backs of others, pillaging and op-opting lives and futures. I am grieving not just this election outcome, I am grieving a lifetime of lies told to me about who we are as a nation and who we are as a people of faith. The bandaid has been slowly pulling off for me, but this was the last painful rip. And when that wound is exposed fully, it is so painful. So raw. So I am going to be sad. I will be sad for as long as my nervous system tells me it needs to feel this grief. And then, then... I am going to be powerful. I am going to deepen my commitment to loving the foreigner, to binding up the broken-hearted, to seeing the unseen, and addressing, as best I can in my own minimal way, the needs of the underserved and persecuted. I am holding pain at how many more beloved children of God are now in need of extraordinary protection and care, but I will use that pain as fuel, the solar energy of each new day reminding me that I am built for love.
Thank you to all of you. It helps so much to know this is a shared time and we are blessed to walk this journey together. The tears still come but they are a reminder of how dear our country is to us.
Yes, we will survive this and our work isn’t done. More than before we need to stand for what is right and kind and loving. But right now, I need to be sad and grieve…
Although the easy response to the bully is with hate, I refuse.
I will not accept their morality of hate and division.
Instead I choose the path of Jesus.
I will love my enemies. “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." (Luke 6:27-28)
They hate because they hurt. They bully because they feel trapped.
I must love to prevent becoming like my enemy, who believes I should bend to their will or not exist.
This path is not easy.
To love my enemy is difficult. To hate is easy.
In the coming days, weeks, months and years, may my love for enemy not falter.
I made it through Wednesday, buoyed by offering a prayer service for my congregation. It had echoes of a memorial service in the heaviness if our hearts, but being together helped us remember we're in ALL of this together. Yesterday, I was laid low by some viscous stomach bug that felt like living a metaphor! I'm grateful beyond measure for your wisdom, and for this community.
Thanks for all of your provocative posts on "the Cottage," but especially this one, which gave me at least a small degree of relief and hope early the day after. I took the liberty to email some excerpts of your post to several like minded friends, who offered their thanks to me, but really to you.
A good friend reminds me that the people of God have so very often lived and served as a remnant, a small group that doesn't seem to have much power or influence. We just keep going, doing justice, loving kindness (building covenant community), walking humbly with God, love God with our whole being and our neighbors as ourselves...and do it wherever and however we can, and it will change history, maybe not as much as I would like to see it changed in my lifetime, but it will make a difference. Peace and grace and hope to you all.
I have been sitting with Psalm 88. It is clearly a lament A Jewish commentary says that the author prays for relief without any mention of its coming or even its expectation. It concludes with the words, “my only companion is darkness.” However grim that may sound and indeed it does to me, the commentary goes on to say: “Nevertheless, although the note of hopefulness is not struck in the concluding verse, it may be implied in the conviction which pervades the Psalm that the sufferer is all the time in the hands of God.”
Reading many of the comments in this thread. Although darkness is a companion of mine at the moment, I am not without hope. The light coming from many of you is encouraging and needed now more than ever.
Breathe! and then breathe again. It is what it is. ( I have to remind myself) One bright side of the transfer of lthis leadership: there won't be the drama and battles that have upset the peace with one another we want to enjoy.
Thank you for this reminder. In my grief I went to work as a hospital chaplain last night. I listened to a senior woman whose husband died 2 months ago. It is such a blessing to connect with other people, to embrace their stories, and to understand how healing a connection based on compassion and empathy.
Dear Diana (and everyone). A lone bird singing in the middle of the night is something very meaningful to me. 4 years ago, I considered my life over due to various illnesses. I could see no way out. I was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the winter night writing about this, when I heard the song of a lone blackbird. A couple of days later a beautiful psalm crossed my path, with lyrics about a blackbird singing in the middle of the night, bringing hope. And soon after that, God led me to a treatment that saved my life. This morning, by random, that psalm was played to me again. And just now I read your text. I find deep consolation in this. It is dark, but we are in good hands.
A group of friends and I have just finished reading and taking about Brian McLaren's latest book - and I'm ready for this. No matter what, I will lead with love. The rest will fall where it may...thanks for your comforting words.
They can trample the flowers but they can’t delay the spring. The moral arc of the universe is a flipping corkscrew, but we’re not quitting!
So evidently Martin Luther was asked what he would do if he knew the world would end tomorrow... He replied. "Plant a tree..."
Sad. We are so sad. And sad feels like the most appropriate emotion to have right now. I long for connection with others who are grieving the loss of what we believed our country stood for. Open arms for the tired, the hungry, the poor. But the truth is, we weren't ever really good at that. We are good at greed, colonization, building wealth on the backs of others, pillaging and op-opting lives and futures. I am grieving not just this election outcome, I am grieving a lifetime of lies told to me about who we are as a nation and who we are as a people of faith. The bandaid has been slowly pulling off for me, but this was the last painful rip. And when that wound is exposed fully, it is so painful. So raw. So I am going to be sad. I will be sad for as long as my nervous system tells me it needs to feel this grief. And then, then... I am going to be powerful. I am going to deepen my commitment to loving the foreigner, to binding up the broken-hearted, to seeing the unseen, and addressing, as best I can in my own minimal way, the needs of the underserved and persecuted. I am holding pain at how many more beloved children of God are now in need of extraordinary protection and care, but I will use that pain as fuel, the solar energy of each new day reminding me that I am built for love.
“Faith is a bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” R. Tagore
Thank you to all of you. It helps so much to know this is a shared time and we are blessed to walk this journey together. The tears still come but they are a reminder of how dear our country is to us.
Yes, we will survive this and our work isn’t done. More than before we need to stand for what is right and kind and loving. But right now, I need to be sad and grieve…
Although the easy response to the bully is with hate, I refuse.
I will not accept their morality of hate and division.
Instead I choose the path of Jesus.
I will love my enemies. “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." (Luke 6:27-28)
They hate because they hurt. They bully because they feel trapped.
I must love to prevent becoming like my enemy, who believes I should bend to their will or not exist.
This path is not easy.
To love my enemy is difficult. To hate is easy.
In the coming days, weeks, months and years, may my love for enemy not falter.
I made it through Wednesday, buoyed by offering a prayer service for my congregation. It had echoes of a memorial service in the heaviness if our hearts, but being together helped us remember we're in ALL of this together. Yesterday, I was laid low by some viscous stomach bug that felt like living a metaphor! I'm grateful beyond measure for your wisdom, and for this community.
Thanks for all of your provocative posts on "the Cottage," but especially this one, which gave me at least a small degree of relief and hope early the day after. I took the liberty to email some excerpts of your post to several like minded friends, who offered their thanks to me, but really to you.
A good friend reminds me that the people of God have so very often lived and served as a remnant, a small group that doesn't seem to have much power or influence. We just keep going, doing justice, loving kindness (building covenant community), walking humbly with God, love God with our whole being and our neighbors as ourselves...and do it wherever and however we can, and it will change history, maybe not as much as I would like to see it changed in my lifetime, but it will make a difference. Peace and grace and hope to you all.
I have been sitting with Psalm 88. It is clearly a lament A Jewish commentary says that the author prays for relief without any mention of its coming or even its expectation. It concludes with the words, “my only companion is darkness.” However grim that may sound and indeed it does to me, the commentary goes on to say: “Nevertheless, although the note of hopefulness is not struck in the concluding verse, it may be implied in the conviction which pervades the Psalm that the sufferer is all the time in the hands of God.”
Reading many of the comments in this thread. Although darkness is a companion of mine at the moment, I am not without hope. The light coming from many of you is encouraging and needed now more than ever.
Thank you for your heartfelt pastoral care, so much needed as I struggle to shake off numbness. Grateful for you.
Breathe! and then breathe again. It is what it is. ( I have to remind myself) One bright side of the transfer of lthis leadership: there won't be the drama and battles that have upset the peace with one another we want to enjoy.
Thank you for this reminder. In my grief I went to work as a hospital chaplain last night. I listened to a senior woman whose husband died 2 months ago. It is such a blessing to connect with other people, to embrace their stories, and to understand how healing a connection based on compassion and empathy.
Dear Diana (and everyone). A lone bird singing in the middle of the night is something very meaningful to me. 4 years ago, I considered my life over due to various illnesses. I could see no way out. I was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the winter night writing about this, when I heard the song of a lone blackbird. A couple of days later a beautiful psalm crossed my path, with lyrics about a blackbird singing in the middle of the night, bringing hope. And soon after that, God led me to a treatment that saved my life. This morning, by random, that psalm was played to me again. And just now I read your text. I find deep consolation in this. It is dark, but we are in good hands.
A group of friends and I have just finished reading and taking about Brian McLaren's latest book - and I'm ready for this. No matter what, I will lead with love. The rest will fall where it may...thanks for your comforting words.