Not only do the times change—the times change us.
Every day we are gradually altered by the world; by what we see or experience, by the people we cross paths with, by the pain and goodness we bear witness to. We are the ever-changing sum total of the moments we log here on the planet, always slightly shifting, never quite finished.
And because of this, invariably we are going to find ourselves at times disagreeing with our former selves, no longer certain of things we believed in our core to be unquestionably true.
Over the past year or so, I’ve realized how many of those sacred givens are now up for debate in my heart, and how much grieving this has yielded:
All people are basically good.
For as long as I can remember this truth has been my fundamental operating system: that once you dig through the layers of fear and disappointment and damage piled upon them by time and circumstance—that every human being is essentially decent and loving, that they are all aspiring to goodness. And while I haven’t completely jettisoned that belief, I have to confess that lately I’ve encountered far too many people who seem fully determined to conceal their goodness; who seem driven to be hurtful, who appear devoid of empathy, who seem filled with bitterness. Holding on to the conviction that every human being is inherently humane, is more difficult now than it’s ever been.
Religion makes the world better.
As a person of faith for most of my life and a pastor for nearly half of those, I want to believe that the pursuit of God is a help to Humanity; that religion is a balm to a hurting world, that it yields people who have more compassion and decency and tenderness than they would have otherwise. I used to be certain of this and I no longer am. I can’t avoid the malignant enmity manufactured by people claiming to love and speak for God—many of the worst of which come from my Christian tradition. Right now I find myself trying to defend a faith while simultaneously protecting so many who are terribly wounded by it. I am trying to point people to God who have been brutally assaulted by professed people of that God—and it’s exhausting.
America is beautifully different.
Though I never grew up with the fierce nationalistic fervor of many of my Christian brethren, I always believed that my country was different; that it was marked by something singularly wonderful which separated it from every other place on the planet. It may have been a largely imagined truth, but I always trusted that my country would ultimately do the wise and decent thing. Watching what we’ve devolved to over the past year, and seeing what inexplicably unfolded here in November and the staggering ugliness that it has produced since—has all but shattered the myth of my childhood that America was a beacon of hope for the world, and this grieves me greatly.
The table is big enough.
Maybe it was privilege-induced blindness, but until recently, I was certain we were becoming a people who embraced the full breadth of Humanity. I’d started to believe that the rich diversity of skin color, religion, sexual orientation, and gender was being celebrated more than it was being lamented. Until recently, I would have said that we were pushing hard toward equality, but right now it seems as though people are more committed than ever to seeing difference as barrier—or worse, as justification for cruelty. These days have unearthed an ugliness that may have always been there, but that doesn’t make it any less horrifying to witness or disheartening to accept. Maybe the table is big enough, but some will never desire to gather there.
Love is all you need.
This idea has always been far greater than a pop song to me. It’s been the steady refrain of my heart as I’ve walked through the world: that love does win, that it will conquer all, that it is the antidote to all that afflicts us. I’ve lived believing that loving hateful people is the only hope you have of reaching them. Maybe I haven’t fully given up this conviction, but it is certainly being strongly challenged and undoubtedly renovated. Yes you do need love, but you need other things as an expression of that love: activism that doesn’t shrink back in the face of opposition, compassion that is willing to suffer on behalf of another, perseverance that will insist on justice when it is resisted. Maybe I still believe love is all you need—I just define love differently than I used to.
Life will always be about the alteration that we undergo as we amass time and experience here. Some days we will rejoice with what these things confirm for us, other days we will grieve. Maybe it is the sheer volume of all that seems to be changing in these days, but it certainly appears as though there is far more reason for mourning than for dancing. For many of us, the list of what we are certain of seems frighteningly short right now.
I imagine the greatest comfort in destabilizing times like these, is realizing that the story isn’t over yet; that this day offers the possibility to be again be shown the goodness of Humanity and to be proven wrong for ever doubting it. Maybe today will provide us with hope-inducing evidence that surprises us and confirms our earlier suspicions.
And this day provides us the space and time for us to become the kind of person we feel the world needs. Perhaps we can be for those who also doubt it—reason to believe that good people still inhabit this place.
