There will be books written about this time in the United States’ history. I’m sure many are already being written. What does all this mean? Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Where does the truth lie? Do we even have the ability to know anymore? I can’t sort it all through.
The deepest truth I can find in this election and its accompanying atmospherics, for me at least, is the darkness it has revealed in my own heart. Some of what’s in me is a vague and ambiguous judgmentalism that I can’t even quite pinpoint. It just kind of sits heavily in me and operates seemingly without direction. It arises without my conscious permission. It has an unbridled willingness to draw dehumanizing, dismissive, and diminishing conclusions about both entire groups of people and individual human beings, while simultaneously excoriating those who do the same.
It is this that keeps me awake, this darkness in me. It feels like too much to bear. I have wondered (or, perhaps discovered?) if this—the darkness within my own heart—is the burden Jesus was referring to when he said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I have never quite thought it so until now. But given the tears that come to my eyes and the begging my heart begins to speak as I hear this invitation, this must indeed be what he meant. “Come to me and I will give you rest.” Yes, Lord, here I am.