Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

faith & spirituality

What do we do now?

The morning after the election, I’m tired for a lot of reasons, although while watching the results roll in on Election Night, I could honestly say I was less anxious than at the same time two years prior. So many of the 2018 election results gave me hope.

But I’m sitting with some serious disappointment about our local race for the U.S. House seat. Fear-based politics won again and I had such hope that the vision presented by the challenger would be enough to draw people out of their political strongholds. I can’t say for sure that people vote out of fear but I know that fear drives more decisions than it should and sometimes how a person votes is one of those decisions.

Photo by Parker Johnson via Unsplash

The day after an election, no matter the outcome but particularly when it doesn’t go the way I hoped, leaves me asking the question, “Now what?” I have come to understand, especially in the last two years, that whatever happens at the government level does not absolve me from responsibility in my own life and community. No matter who is in office, I still have obligations.

I confess that I have not been as engaged publicly in justice and advocacy in the last year as I was right after the 2016 election. I feel like my part-time day job has elements of both justice and advocacy and is a good use of my time. Still, I cannot leave everything completely to others.

What now?

Maybe you’re asking yourself the same question. And if you aren’t, that’s okay, too. Maybe you can’t think about it right now. Maybe you don’t see any need to concern yourself further with politics. I’m not here to tell you what to do.

But I will invite you to participate in what I feel is the best way forward. At least, it is for me.

Now that the election is over, here is what I plan to do:

1. Reinstate spiritual practices into my life. I have a complicated relationship with church and Christians sometimes, but I could never give up on Jesus. For me, if I am to do the work I feel is required of me as a human, I need to be connected to a Source that is unlimited and beyond me. That Source for me is Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The first thing I thought of when I was considering this question of “what now?” was the phrase “against such things there is no law.” I looked it up to be sure I knew where it was found in the Bible, and it follows the listing of the fruit of the Spirit found in Galatians.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

The fruit of the Spirit cannot be cherry-picked or forced. It is a result of deep connection and being tended by the Gardener. There is no law against love, joy, peace, kindness, etc., and if I want those to be words that describe my life, attributes that flow out of me naturally, then I need to start with the Spirit.

2. Regularly contact my elected officials. I was in the habit of doing this after the 2016 election. For the first time in my life, I made phone calls to my representatives and sent emails and tweeted at them (to them?) a lot. Then I sort of stopped. I think in part I was discouraged. I’m not good at repetition without result, and I’m deeply averse to conflict so calling to make my dissenting voice heard felt like constant conflict.

But that’s no excuse. There are email options. And I can call from time to time. I need to use my voice to defend the values I’m passionate about. On the morning of the election, I read in the Book of Common Prayer, a prayer for an election, and it begins with “Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges …”

In the last two years, I have become more aware of the powers and privileges I have as a white woman living in the United States. I must give an account to God for what I did with that power and privilege and it is my desire to use it on behalf of those who have none or less. In Proverbs 31, before the wife of noble character is introduced, are these words: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.”

I need to speak up more.

3. Listen and learn. When I’m not speaking up, I need to be listening and learning from those who have different life experiences, different heritages, different points of view than I have.  This includes reading, of course, which is not hard to do but also in-person listening and learning whenever possible.

Photo by Sandrachile via Unsplash

4. Scatter kindness. Related to no. 1, when I am rooted in the practices of my faith tradition, kindness and love toward others overflow. I’m not a naturally optimistic or bubbly person but I find that I can’t keep these things–kindness and love–to myself when I am full in my spirit. I hold doors open and smile and talk to strangers. I give compliments away like candy at a parade, and I’m more free with charitable giving. (I love that Lancaster’s Extra Give is only 10 days after the election. Giving money to organizations I support and watching the amount given overall in one day is healing work when I think the world is hopeless.) I write letters and thank you notes and check in on friends. These may be small acts but they are just as necessary as the big ones. Maybe more so.

Photo by Nathan Lemon on Unsplash

5. Pay attention. Some of us (myself included) are glued to our screens for news and analysis and entertainment. There is a place for all of this, but we can’t forget that there is an IRL (in-real-life) world around us. Every day there are people passing through our sphere. Every day there are needs and chances to do good. Yesterday, I missed a chance to help a woman whose first language wasn’t English fill out a medical form at the dentist. I didn’t want to offend her, even though she looked like she needed help. I didn’t want to make a scene in the waiting room. (I always have excuses.) Seeing the needs and chances to help are just one part of the equation. Acting on them is another.

What would you add to this list? How do you move forward when you are disappointed and frustrated with election results? What is next for you?

And if you aren’t disappointed and frustrated with election results, what does the work ahead look like for you?

Together

I have a guitar. It’s older than I am, but I’m not sure how much older. All I know is it belonged to my uncle. He died a few months before I was born. I don’t remember exactly how the guitar came to be in my possession except that I think I acquired it sometime after my grandfather died the year I graduated from college. I asked if I could have it. Someone said yes. I didn’t know how to play it when I asked for it but I had friends who could teach me. 

My guitar playing journey has been sporadic at best. I’m no musician, not really. I know how songs are supposed to sound, sometimes, but I can’t really read music and when the conversation turns to key changes and notes I start to panic a little. I’m forever afraid of being called an imposter at anything I try to do. I live with a ridiculous amount of insecurity inside my brain. Most days, I manage to set it aside and live in the confidence of who I am and who I was made to be and who I am becoming but some days the whispers of “not enough” and “who do you think you are?” are loud and debilitating. I nod in agreement. You’re right, I say to the voices in my head, I’m not the girl for this.

It holds me back from so many things.

Sometimes, though, I move ahead anyway. I ignore the voices (they never really go away) and take the next step and the next one until I’m solidly in new territory and scared out of my mind.

This is where I found myself on Sunday morning–with a guitar strapped to my body standing in front of my church’s assembled people playing songs of praise. It was a moment months in the making and the act of carrying it out had my knees knocking and palms sweating. My fingers shook either from the cold of the sanctuary or the anxiety of doing a new thing. Maybe both.

For months, I’ve been practicing and reacquainting myself with chords and strings and strumming. It’s been a half-hearted effort but something I’ve wanted to do as part of my after-40 plan for becoming the best version of myself. I practiced during the summer and finally in the fall sent our worship leader a list of songs I was comfortable playing. When she scheduled me for an actual date, the freaking out began, and I scrambled to watch YouTube videos and find out how to transpose chords to ones I could actually play. I practiced in the comfort of my home imagining how terrible this was all going to go down because I’m such an unaccomplished musician.

I almost backed out.

By the time I arrived to the rehearsal on Sunday morning, an hour before the service was to start, I was resigned to do my best and let it all happen as it would. I kept making excuses for my abilities and all I found in return was encouragement and acceptance. Those who had more talent and abilities were eager to share their knowledge and make room for me in the group.

And it turns out that playing songs together is more fun than playing them alone. But practicing alone helped me prepare for the time together.

The songs sound different when I’m playing alone, and they are richer and fuller when played with others.

Almost as if that’s how it was meant to be.

—

I can’t help but think that this is the way I’m to practice my faith as well.

To recognize my abilities and do what I can do with them, to practice living out what I believe during the days between assemblies, and to join with others in a collaborative practice and learn from those with more experience.

In the assembly, we are to welcome each other and the unique gifts each of us bring to the group. We are to accept each other where we are and help each other learn. We are to join our efforts in concert, celebrating how different our beliefs “sound” when practiced together.

We are richer, fuller, more vibrant when we are all of us doing the thing we were made to do. In the working together there will be stumbling and fumbling. There will be acknowledgement of weakness and areas of lack but also people to stand with us and beside us to fill the gaps we could not fill ourselves.

We are meant to work together for the common good. It is better this way.

I can’t say exactly what it looks like when it comes to spiritual practice, but I know it involves all of us. Some of us need to figure out what our strengths and gifts are. Some of us need to raise our hands and say, “I can do that.” Some of us need to take a trembling step in a new direction and be strengthened by those who’ve been that way before. Some of us need to extend our hands to the ones who feel like they have no business being there and say, “Welcome. You belong here.”

I don’t know what it will look like specifically, but I can imagine the beauty of it. I know how I feel right now at this moment having taken that terrifying step toward something new.

I am encouraged and inspired and confident and full of good thoughts and feelings. (I am looking forward to church again, which is not always something I can say.) Most of all, I am hopeful. That ordinary people who meet together regularly can influence each other in meaningful ways (and that in turn those people can change a little piece of the world around them.)

This is how the good news is showing itself to me today. This is what will carry me through a week that is sure to be full of reasons to doubt (myself and others). This is what will buoy me the next time I need to take a new step.

This is what is saving my life right now.