I made a terrible mistake. I realize it now. But November 9th got the best of me. While I wanted to remain silent, barring the frenzy which took to the streets of social media, the encourager in me felt the dire need to just say something. So, less than 12 hours after the official declaration of America’s next President I posted this:
I do believe that most people live in dark places…hurting places, hard places, stuck places. And I do believe that those who carry the torch of God’s love and light have a responsibility to use it wisely, be bold, and pass it on. Now more than ever.
I made the post and moved #onward.
At least I tried. But I didn’t get very far because the cries of nation in mourning are like a baby wailing in the night. It’s not long before exhaustion sets in and the hunger for an ounce of peace and quiet cause normal people to do crazy things. So, I’ve stayed awake, vigilant, listening to broken hearts, terror filled lungs screaming bloody murder, seething anger, and bitter mockery. I rock in my chair, hoping for peace and calm, but the cries don’t cease.
Over the weekend it hit me!
This is full onset grief.
OUR NATION IS LARGELY GRIEVING.
Grief; a familiar cousin, a business partner. I know this grief well. I’ve observed it, studied it, and held its firm hand. But somehow, perhaps due to its seismic proportions (too grand), I missed seeing it for what it truly has become. Which is why, now, I’m regretting the notion that moving #onward was / is appropriate for such a time as this.
It’s a classic response to someone in pain: Move on!
Who tells the young widow in her grief to move on?
Who tells the parent of a wayward child to move on?
Who tells the African American in their frustration to just move on?
It’s a horrible response to someone in pain. And I know better. I’m sorry.
For reasons I’ll explain I have somehow remained quite calm during this election cycle. Mostly unshaken. Not unlike previous elections where my emotional thermometer has spiked record highs. It’s odd to me, this state I’m in. I’ve spent some time internalizing why it’s different for me this time and I’ve concluded the following:
I chose to unplug. Long ago I disconnected from the barrage of media. That’s not to say I’ve been living with my head under a rock. It’s only to say that I choose when and where to gather my information (and please, for those who care, it is my strong opinion that information gathering ought to be sought from multiple sources; leaning and swaying, including and opposing my internal beliefs. Why? Because balance is best obtained when both sides of the scale have been put under pressure.)
I chose to go inward. For me, I need to turn my mind and my spirit inward otherwise fear and anxiety will tear me apart. I’ve learned that if there is fear or anger or hatred beneath my chest, I must discover the root. Meditation on God’s word is where I choose to bring those fleshly battles.
Meditation; the art of reading, speaking out loud, and reflecting upon written love and law quips my heart with a hope on things eternal.
Inward is becoming a lost art in our busy, media laden world. I know, I know that we ought to use our voices to speak out against the injustices of the world. Wholeheartedly, yes! But not without proper preparation. Would you want a med student with a desire and passion to heal heart disease without any training or first hand guidance to perform your heart surgery? Heck no! If we want to see peace come to pass out there…we must come to first discover it within.
There will come a time for each one of us to move #onward.
Suggesting movement is natural. Especially when get too close to another person’s raw pain. We want an exit plan…and fast. So we push and hustle to hurry things along. But that’s not how it works. Grief is mysterious, taking on a life of it’s own. Time can heal. But my time is mine. Your time is yours. If God is working everything out for good in each one of us…then we must let go of our agenda and timetable and only trust that he is working it all out for each one of us uniquely.
But first we must move #inward.
Let us fight to find a quiet place today. Turn off the radio. Buckle ourself into contemplation and listen, really listen. Write out those fears. Write and write until the ink runs dry. Pour it all out. Weep and weep and pour it all out. Stay here for as long as it takes. Don’t take to the streets. Stay here, just stay here ’till the preparation of peace has been placed upon our feet.
Then, my friend, may we consider a posture of compassion. Then, my friend, may we rise. Straight. Equipped to bear another’s burden. A posture of no fear. A trembling in our core that the heartbeat of hope is still very much alive.