My family went on a trip to Europe this summer, an early senior trip with our twins; we don’t know what their next summer schedules will be, so we seized the day and did so joyfully.  It was a glorious time together.  While there, some interesting events transpired. To our utter disbelief, we learned of Trump almost being assassinated from an ocean away.  It was unbelievably awful and surreal.  Soon after, we continued on our planned itinerary and had the wrenching honor of visiting Auschwitz.  It was beyond sobering to behold what hate clothed with action can produce.  Hatred is so ravenous and unrelenting; in its midst, grace has no breath or existence. 

Images from Auschwitz will stay with me forever—horribly cramped barracks, chambers and ovens used for mass exterminations, piles of people’s possessions stolen and categorized by fastidious murderers.  And the most straining visual for me, a gigantic room full of human hair.  We found out the Nazis would weave people’s hair into a fabric that can only be described as grotesque.  All of this reminded me of how precious each life is and how this can be so rapidly and systematically forgotten.
In this election cycle that carries such starkly differing visions and policies, I want to be a voice that never loses sight of the humanity of anyone, for we just cannot afford to do so and remain truly human.  If we do, we risk becoming monsters. 

This does not mean that I do not have very strong opinions about the policies I want moving forward; I even gave money for the first time to a presidential candidate because I believe the policy differences are so incredibly crucial for the welfare of our people and country. 

That being said, I wish no ill will on those I vehemently disagree with nor hope do not get in office.  I would never want this reality for Harris or Trump (though this has horrifically happened to him twice now); both of them are people who have families and friends that love them deeply.    

I personally believe this is a seminal election that can set the tone for good or ill for our country, but I am trying not to fall into the trap of dehumanizing those running against my version of what is best for America.  If I do, I will repudiate all that is excellent in the lofty vision of America set forth by our Founding Fathers, in which “all men are created equal….endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,” as our Declaration of Independence declares!

Moreover, as a Christian, I believe every single person is made in the image of God, as we see in Genesis.  When you look at people with this truth as your vision, you simply cannot hate someone easily.  Even those we fiercely oppose politically are so precious to God, are made in His image like we are, and are someone He came to die for, just as He did for you and for me.  This humbles me to the core.  Far too often than we will admit, we secretly believe God is on our side because we are “better,” more “righteous” than our enemies.  God may be pleased with our views because we are upholding Scripture (if, indeed, we are interpreting it correctly), but He is certainly not any upholder of our pride; He opposes the proud.  ‘Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”’ (James 4:6) 

So, go campaign, give money, participate in respectful debates with others (I am trying to do this), be an involved and informed citizen, and vote, but do so humbly; do so remembering that others bear His image just because they were created by God.  Do this remembering what it looks like if we don’t…

​Auschwitz is a place I wish we could all visit once so that we never forget what it looks like when hatred is given meticulous, murderous infrastructure.  May it never happen here.  Jesus, keep us strong, truthful, loving, uncompromising but ever humble.  

It has been awhile since I have written.  When Covid first hit, I had to retreat to handle what was happening.  Then, we bought a house, renovated that house, and moved during the week of Easter.  After all that, we eventually sold our other house, which was also stressful.  Then, there was the stress of our world and society.  All of that, and I just had to take a big Sabbath to survive. 

It is now time to leave my cocoon.  While I Sabbathed and was quiet, I learned a lot.  God grew, challenged, and met me, yet some crevices in my soul that had been there got worse and bigger.  Still, some of those broken places, He wove over with His grace and filled me up with His Living Water.  I am both broken and whole, a reminder of His continual grace and the grace that is to come.

There is no denying how very hard this time has been and often continues to be.  Watching the pain of actual death for some, sickness for others, loss of jobs, school children bereft of friendship and learning, people scared and incredulous, rancor in the streets, families split because of opinions, and so on, has been one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced.  I know this experience is not unique to me-- it has been a lot for us all.

In this broken, I have waged my own war-- one of fear, rage, submission, and hope.  As a germaphobe, I have written previously (see here-- worry-hard-fought-faith-and-coronavirus.html) about how hard a pandemic is for me on a very basic level.  But, the emotional stress of it all has been more than I could anticipate.  I have been afraid for myself, my family, and all I love. I have been judged, and I have judged others.   I have been frustrated by my viewpoints and the differing ones of others.  I have sought Him and left it there and then taken it all back again.  And, I have learned that He is my Rock in ways I never knew I needed. 

Yet, through it all, I have felt called to carry space for all I encounter to breathe, to be who they truly are. These fraught times have taught me how much discipline it takes to let someone else be safe with me, even if I disagree with them about a certain issue.  In so doing, I have found some precious friends who have done the same for me, even while knowing we deeply disagree in our perspectives. 

It is simply hard work to love this way; it is bloody, Cross-work.  It is some of the hardest work I have ever done. 

Humility is a bitter pill to swallow, and most in our culture do not cultivate its fruit. I am first in need to lay my own self down in these ways.  But, when we do, when we do, pathways of freedom and grace begin to form.  Love begets love, humility slays pride, and peace covers fear.

A beautiful lesson I have learned in this is regarding motives.  When all of this began, I think I would rush to wonder about someone’s motives if their views were different than mine.  In that, I judged.  Over time, God has revealed that I always must trust people’s hearts that I know, just like I want them to do so for me when I make them wonder.  It has been one of my biggest gifts in this season.

Can you imagine what our world would be like if we gave each other the benefit of the doubt—that just because we disagree does not change one iota the depth of the other’s love, character, integrity?

​So, how humble are you and I?  How safe are we for our friends?  Can they be real with us, or do they have to hide their real thoughts because they know we can’t handle them?

​I invite you to take up the cross of humility with me.  This does not mean our opinions will change nor that we won’t share them at appropriate times, but may we do so with our souls prostrate before Him.  Let us be humble together, for we follow a Savior that was humble enough to submit to death on a cross for us.  May we, too, take up our cross and follow Him.