What Can We Do After the Election? Be salt and light

Wisdom for when I feel like nothing I do matters...

In the wake of the results of the American Presidential election, I suspect many of you feel like I do. Bedraggled and unimportant and impotent in the face of our divided nation. I have a hard time believing that anything I say or do matters. I have a hard time believing that our political polarization won’t get even more extreme.

The left denounces the right as misogynistic and racist¹ or just plain stupid. The right lashes out at the left as priggish and elitist² and extremist, or, again, just plain stupid. What good is there in entering into the fray of loud and dehumanizing voices? (As an aside, I appreciated both of the essays I just linked to, and yet I’m not convinced that the sweeping characterizations of either side helps anyone.) 

Salt and Light

Post-election, I’ve returned to the words of Jesus in Matthew 5: “You are the salt of the earth … You are the light of the world.” Plenty of people who read this newsletter aren’t looking to the words of Jesus as a daily guide, but for all of us who wonder how to respond to the current state of our country, there’s wisdom and grace and truth we can receive. 

As many of you already know, last week I released a podcast conversation with Rev. Corey Widmer about “How to Be Christian in an Election.” Corey spoke (before the election) about what it looks like to follow the way of Jesus whether your candidate wins or loses. We talked there about the Beatitudes, the list of blessings that Jesus offers to “those who mourn,” “the poor in spirit,” “the meek,” “the peacemakers.”

The Beatitudes form a prologue to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus starts by commending the people who have no economic or political or social power, the ones who are vulnerable and weak and feel like they have nothing to offer and even when they do, they get knocked down.

Jesus commends the ones who feel like they have no voice, have no power, have no say—and then he says to them:

“You. You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.” 

Yes, you. And me. 

Jesus is not talking about turning on a switch and suddenly everything will be different and amazing and beautiful and loving. He’s talking about small lights, small enough to hide under a bushel basket—lights so small they’re only seen by people nearby.

This realization moves me to a sense of possibility and responsibility. To shine my very little light in the very little spaces that I occupy—whether that's on the internet, in my family, in my neighborhood—through kindness and curiosity. 

Through stopping to pay attention. 

Through trying to understand where other people are coming from. 

Through being willing to lay down some of the things that I want and to seek the good of other people around me. 

Through being true to the way I've been made and the gifts I have to offer. 

We all are invited to be the light of the world.

Care for People, Care for Places

Local Communities

I wrote last week that our 16-year-old son, William, was asked to speak to his school right before the election about why politics matters to him. He decided not to talk about Presidential politics, but rather, about local politicians who have worked across the divides in order to seek the common good. His words seem even more appropriate to me now that we are on the other side of this election. He said:

“Politics should be about coming together, across party affiliation, across race, across class, across gender, to implement solutions to the problems that we face as people. Politics, in its best form, is people from different backgrounds coming together to find solutions that help everyone.”

These types of solutions are most likely to happen within our local communities, when we have relationships with each other grounded on more than political affiliation. 

Go Slow and Repair Things

Tish Harrison Warren wrote an essay for Christianity Today last week called “Go Slow and Repair Things,” where she commended us to connect in our local communities and care for people, and places, over time. 

So I am taking heart that the small, slow, hidden work of faithful care for people and places really does matter. That there really are ways for us to come together across our divides in order to help everyone. And that the God who is love calls us to exactly that work, equips us for it, and blesses us in it. 

You are the salt of the earth.

You are the light of the world.

What are you thinking and feeling a week after the election? I’d love to hear from you—reply to this email or leave a comment.

Blessings,
Amy Julia 

P.S. As it happens, Corey Widmer also preached on salt and light this past Sunday. For any of you who appreciated his words on the podcast, you’ll also benefit from his sermon.

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Waiting with Hope in the Dark

With all the division that I just wrote about, it can feel like we’ve come to the end of ourselves. We’re waiting—impossibly waiting—for our world to become less divided, less dehumanizing, less dark. I’ve discovered that Advent, with its focus on waiting with hope in the dark, is exactly the season for me to come to the end of myself, to come before God with my desperate need for God to do impossible things.

A few years ago, I published a book that walks through this season of waiting with patience and eager expectation. This devotional, for individuals or groups, has daily Bible readings that will move through the birth stories about Jesus over the course of the month of December. I’ve also created a free resource with discussion and reflection questions as a companion to the devotional.

Perhaps you’ll join me in walking through Advent this year; it begins on December 1. More info here.

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1. The Guardian: Our mistake was to think we lived in a better country than we do by Rebecca Solnit

2. NYT: A Party of Prigs and Pontificators Suffers a Humiliating Defeat by Bret Stephens