WIN OR LOSE . . .

life goes on

When we use the phrase “life goes on,” we are attempting to encourage someone we care about, maybe even ourselves. We declare that even though something bad has happened, we must continue to fully live. For example—“We both miss her, but life goes on.”

Win or lose on November 3, life will go on. But whether or not our guy won, the sick feeling many of us have felt over the past several years will not go away. The sad truth is that the last two election cycles have been God-awful.  

Our political climate reminds me of Philip Winslow’s book about the ongoing conflict between Israelis and Palestinians—Victory For Us Is To See You Suffer. The title alone says a lot about the core problem in that region of the world. Sadly, we of the red/blue Divided States of America have adopted the same level of hatred for one another. Sometimes we mask our feelings behind fake smiles and pretty prose, but the demonization of the other side is still there. Judging others but not ourselves, we determine that the “other” is not kind, loving, or honorable.

Mercifully, on November 4, the calendar will finally flip to a new day, the signs will start to come down, and we won’t be giving a drive-by-finger to our neighbors. Maybe then, no matter the outcome, you will say to yourself, “Well, life goes on.”

And what will life look like for you? For me, it probably won’t look that much different. I’m going to live much the way I’ve always lived. So for now I’ll encourage myself (and maybe you) with a few old standby planks built into my shaky foundation.

GET PERSPECTIVE

No matter what the outcome on the 3rd, I am not going to panic. No doubt, the person living in the White House is important, but like everyone else, he is but a blade of grass in a full green field. Be it Trump or Biden, he will have sprung up, lived a short day in God’s long-view timeline, withered, and faded away. “Surely the people are grass,” the prophet wrote. “The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever” (Isaiah 40:8).

Like me, Donald and Joe will one day stand before God, and believe it or not, Jesus may not know our names. “Lord, Lord,” we’ll cry. And Jesus may “tell [us] plainly, ‘I never knew you . . .’” (Matthew 7:23).

This hard saying of Jesus daily grips my heart. At the same time, I’m encouraged by this section of Matthew. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew’s Jesus reassures us that God is not partial to the world’s measures of importance. Big or small, famous or untrumpeted, rich or poor, it does not matter to Jesus. All Jesus cares about is how you lived your life and with whom you spent your time.

Follow Jesus around the Gospels and note his company: the poor, the outcast, the oppressed, the marginalized, beggars, blind people, lepers. If you and I want to be known by Jesus, then we’d better get to the places and hang with the people with whom Jesus eats and drinks. Otherwise, how can we be introduced?

 A friend of mine says it like this: “We are all bozos on the same bus.” Biden and Trump too? You bet!

CELEBRATE SOBERLY

I have a preferred candidate. That’s Joe Biden. I hope he wins. If he does, I will celebrate sensitively and solemnly. I will not gloat because what is there to gloat over? No matter who wins, America is in for some difficult years.

COVID is not going away any time soon. Whether it’s Trump or Biden, the number of cases will continue to rise, and so will the number of deaths.  The economy is going to struggle no matter who occupies the White House. Unemployment will devastate millions of families, and the deficit will continue to grow. No matter the election year rhetoric, there are no easy or painless solutions to our problems.

Concerning the divisive issues confronting us, we’ll continue to use the ugliest language to talk about each other: baby-killer, redneck, idiot, racist, woman-hater, wicked, pervert, loser, etc., etc., etc. Name calling is in vogue now, along with vulgar language and crude images. Mud is slung with enthusiasm, much of it by Christians on Christians.

We are all caught on the same merry-go-round, and no one knows where to find the off switch. So even if my candidate wins, there will be no champagne at my house.

GRIEVE

If my candidate loses, I’m going to be really, really bummed. I’ll have a few restless nights, some moments of discouragement, but then I’ll move on. I’m no stranger to loss and disappointment, and I would venture you aren’t either. And what I’ve learned through loss is that nothing is final, no matter how much it might feel that way. There is always a new day coming, and I’m pretty sure the President of the United States is not the one who brings the dawn.

So grieve. The Jewish tradition of sitting shiva is deeply helpful as a metaphor for how to respond to loss. Sitting shiva refers to the act of sitting on low stools during times of mourning. As mentioned in the Book of Job, upon mourning, Job’s friends “sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights” (Job 2:13). And then “life goes on.” Of course, the sadness lingers, but the idea of shiva is to remind everyone that “there is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance” (Ecclesiastes 3:4).

Thirteen years ago today, October 29, 2007, my father died. Along with my mother and brother, I was in the room when he literally breathed out his last breath. I can still hear the sound. On the world’s stage, this election is more important that the death of my father. But not to me. I’m going to remember that on November 4.

PRIORITIZE

Once we’ve gained perspective on the whole election madness, perhaps we can reason together over more important things. In the last debate the moderator barely found time to talk about climate change, one of the major threats facing our world. And the answer my friend, “isn’t blowing in the wind” or shining from the sun (solar panels). The solutions to most of what ails us are in the mind of some kid who needs a chance to learn. That kid could be anybody’s child, including yours, or perhaps the immigrant boy or girl we are shutting out for no good reason except fear. If we don’t set education as the top priority, that kid’s cure-for-cancer-idea will never see the light of day.

KEEP TRYING

Of all God’s traits, the one that stands out for me is God’s resiliency. God doesn’t quit. For me, the cross and the resurrection of Jesus, along with the gift of the Holy Spirit, are the three most inspiring and hope-filled acts in God-history. In the person of Jesus, God came to be with us. (I’m partial to the incarnation event as well.) God’s intent was to show us how to live better than dog-eat-dog, win at all costs, annihilate your enemy, while building bigger barns.

As I sit quietly in the early dawn of this new day, two of my grandchildren lie asleep in our guest bedroom. In a couple of hours my seven-year-old granddaughter is going to stumble out of the bedroom and walk into the sunroom where I’ll be typing away on my iPad Pro. I’ll see her and set my computer aside as she climbs into the recliner next to me. She’ll rest her head on my shoulder and slowly wake up. Then she’ll want to watch something on her tablet while I fix pancakes.

I can’t help but worry about how all this election acrimony is affecting her. I think about the conversations she overhears, the ads she can’t help but see, and what she might be hearing from other children about all this rancor.  Whatever the answer, it can’t be good. I’m frightened for her and for my other grandchildren as well. And I’m not sure what to do to be helpful.

But quitting is not an option. So I’ll keep writing, at least to the end of the year. I’ll be as transparent as I know to be, as straight-forward as feels helpful. I welcome comments, but I’ll not respond, simply letting what I write speak for me.

I’m going to hang out with my grandchildren as much as they’ll hang out with me. I’m also going to volunteer at a local food bank so that I can hang out with Jesus too. For now, that’s enough.