I don’t yet have the strength to write about the election in a prayerful way…I’ll leave that to greater minds than mine. (That’s your cue, SueBE and Ruthie!) I can, however, write about this.
My dear friend Alice once told me that she’d spoken to her spiritual advisor about forgiveness. Alice couldn’t bring herself to forgive someone. Her advisor told her to pray for the desire to forgive. That advice seems wonderfully cogent right now.
I can’t be happy yet. I can’t say that everything’s okay, and let’s just hold hands and sing “Kumbaya” (which we actually used to sing at our parish in Buena Park in the ‘70s). But I want it to be. I want to feel peaceful and prayerful and hopeful again. But right now, the best I can do is to pray for the desire to move on. I don’t feel it yet. But maybe if I pray hard enough, I’ll want to feel it. And wanting to feel it is the first step toward feeling it.
This is not to say that I will not allow myself to be angry. Jesus was angry when he threw the money-changers out of the temple. If it’s okay for Jesus to be angry, then it’s okay for me to be angry. But there’s a time and a place for anger, and a time and a place for hope. (“Turn, turn, turn,” sing the Byrds.) I’m not ready to stand in that place yet — and that is my own problem and my own sin — but I’m going to pray that tomorrow I will want to. And maybe, just maybe, the day after that — I will stand there again.
To everyone out there who is hurting, for any reason whatsoever, I understand. God understands. God is, after all, the God of those on the margins, the God of all of us who struggle. If we were perfect, we wouldn’t need God. Today I need God desperately.
So desperately, that I am willing to open the door, just a crack, to hope. Or, at least, to the desire for it. In this case, maybe wishing will make it so.