Love wins, but only if we choose it

What if our post-election spiritual assignment is to love the other side?

Everyone is checking in on each other.

So far, we’re all marked SAFE from the election.

We went from posting KEEP KALMALA and CARRY ONALA memes to filling Facebook with inspirational quotes to use as a life raft to keep from sinking further into despair.

The day after election, it was hard seeing those bold headlines of Trump’s victory. I flipped the newspapers over. I’m not ready for reality.

The next day when I opened the New York Times, a full-page ad by the ACLU made me smile. It was a letter to Trump saying, We are the American Civil Liberties Union. And we’re not moving to Canada…any attempt to roll back the nation’s civil liberties on our

watch will be hard fought and met with the full power of our resistance.”

The Wall Street Journal featured a full-page ad by Fox celebrating its election day coverage.

And so we remain a divided country.

When I did try to offer hope in social media posts, one woman called me “too perky.”

I’ve been accused of being too positive, but never too perky. But my recovery life doesn’t give me any grace to linger long in resentment and fear. I’m not a let’s-hold-hands-and-cry-together kind of gal. I’m a let’s-get-off-the-couch-and-get-busy-changing kind of pal.

Maybe now isn’t the time for my gifts. So I spent more time in prayer and meditation. What does the world need from me? What is the God of my Joy calling me to do or be? Yes, little old me. What’s my spiritual assignment now?

What’s yours?

Mine probably wasn’t publishing a litany of Trump’s worst decisions after a cousin gloated about Trump winning on our family Facebook page. It probably wasn’t using the F word every time Trump’s name came up the day after election.

So this morning in prayer, I read a few books to get centered.

For two weeks, I’ve been stuck on the same passage in The Sermon on the Mount, by Emmet Fox. I’m stuck on that beatitude, “Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain mercy.”

He wrote, “The thing that really matters is that you be merciful in your thoughts.”

Grr.

You can see why I hate this reading.

“Let us be merciful in our mental judgments of our brother, for, in truth, we are all one, and the more deeply he seems to err, the more urgent is the need for us to help him with the right thought, and so make it easier for him to get free.”

“You – because you understand the power of the Spiritual Idea, the Christ Truth – have a responsibility that others have not; see that you do not evade it. When his delinquency comes to your notice, remember that the Christ in him is calling out for help to you who are enlightened – so be merciful.”

You can see why I can’t move on from that page. I haven’t been and don’t want to be merciful in my thoughts when it comes to Trump and Vance and their supporters.

When I flipped to another book for a different answer, Ernest Holmes whacked me on the head with this: “Whatever the mistakes of yesterday may have been, today is a new creation…We should refuse to carry the negations of yesterday into the positive atmosphere of today, for today the world is made new in our experience…I shall behold the face of love, of beauty, and of peace in everyone I meet.”

Everyone?

Grr.

Then I saw a Facebook post by gay comedian Tig Notara on Facebook. It was a post-election day gift. She wrote: “On the day after, my Christian aunt sent me this. Love it.”

I love it too. It’s a T-shirt with these words:

            Jesus is the refugee.

            The man on death row.

            The single mom with two jobs.

            The person with a disability.

            The friend with an addiction.

            The woman sharing #METOO.

            The transgender co-worker.

            The kid with no lunch money.

            The least of these.

I’ve been worried about the least of these.

The Haitians in Springfield, Ohio who were lied about to win votes. The immigrants who fled poverty for the hope that is, or was, America. For people of color and Native Americans who still long for equity and equality. For women whose health care should include the option of abortion services. For gay people and trans people who fear for their rights and their lives. They are the least.

My heart opened even wider for all of them this week.

But -- and it’s just a niggling at my heart, a gentle tugging on my soul, a wrestling match with an angel that I probably won’t win -- I wonder if “the least of us” doesn’t include more.

Like the other half of the country.

Could those people who supported Trump be the least of my brothers?

Could they need our prayers and love and merciful thoughts?

Grr. Say it isn’t so.

But if I truly believe Love is the greatest force of all, and that Love always wins, what is the harm in loving more? If Love is all we need, then we surely need a lot more of it right now.

Can I love people who close their hearts out of fear or greed or envy?

Can I love people who fear women having equal rights and the power of choice?

Can I love people who hide behind hate and anger to shield their pain and shame?

Can I love people who fear liberty and justice for ALL?

Grrrrrr.

I’m not ready to like any of them.

But I am willing to pray for the willingness to love them.

It’s a start.

But love has to start somewhere, so let it begin with me.

And you.