I don’t want to talk about this. But for too long, the silence has been deafening. The elephant is not only in the room, but friends, it has shat the bed. I’ve always been a clean-as-you-go kind of person, but … Continue reading
I know, I know. *already shaking my damn head*
After much deliberation, I’m adding my opinion of the 2016 US election to the growing pile. At this point, you’re probably even more sick of it than I am, and won’t want to keep reading.
I don’t blame you. But hang on for a moment longer.
I’m not here to make a list of everything wrong with Donald Trump – you’ve already been there, done that, and bought the T-shirt.
I’m here to set a few records straight, because as a former American living in Canada, I’ve been getting some inquiries:
“How is anything Trump even says sounding good to Americans??”
“Are evangelicals *really* the majority of his voters??”
They deserve some answers, and even though I’m just one woman with little to no understanding of how politics works, I’m here to share what I see.
1. Many American people suffer from a major spirit of poverty.
I’m not just talking about poor and homeless people, which it sadly has plenty of – I’m talking about people who have enough, but don’t know it. With some of the largest records in credit card debt, workaholic standards, food waste, welfare, obesity, environmental hazards and privilege in the world, Americans are drowning in the pool of Too Much & Not Enough. And the fear that one day everything they hold dear will be taken away from them is firmly in the driver’s seat.
2. Many American people have been blaming immigrants and citizens of different skin colours alike for the state the country is in, for years.
Most of us can admit, looking back, that the whole enslavement of black people leading up to the Civil War was pretty wrong. (In fact, the enslavement of any people group in any point of history is pretty wrong.) We’re thankful for people like Abraham Lincoln who helped abolish that law; we remember his assassination still.
So why are the KKK still in action? Why is the Confederate flag such a sacred cow that no one had better speak against? Why are people being shot down in the streets daily because of how they look?
Because you can abolish a law, but it doesn’t change a person’s heart. Your mom can *make* you apologize for punching your brother, and you can say it well enough to appease all parties involved, but maybe your fingers were crossed and you can’t wait to punch him again when no one’s looking – because only you know how much the little punk is really asking for it.
There’s a movie from the late 90’s called American History X. It’s focused in L.A., on the gang wars between multiple races and a white supremacist neo-Nazi group, and two brothers caught in between.
It’s disturbing, eye-opening, horrifying, violent – and I believe it should be required viewing for every university-age person on the planet.
It has challenged me multiple times, seeing how subtly deep the levels of racism go, mixed with a prominent attitude of “I’m a good, hardworking white American, so if anything bad happens to me, it’s definitely the fault of that guy over there! America was so much better before people like him came here.”
3. Many Americans identify as Evangelical or Christian in census and survey, without even realizing what those words imply.
I mean, you’re not an atheist or a pagan or *shudder* a Muslim, right? Your hardworking, white American ancestors that *ahem* emigrated over on the Mayflower raised you better than that. And you definitely were in church at least twice this year, so put a little ✔ next to that Evangelical box and you’re good til next time.
4. And sometimes, in a perfect clusterf*ck, all of these attitudes collide in the same people.
They are the ones voting for Donald Trump.
And why not? Finally, after EIGHT YEARS of having to deal with a president who’s black and probably secretly a Muslim, here comes a successful white guy who is promising you more money and less immigrants – all under the banner of your Evangelical flag. He gets you. He knows what you need, and he isn’t afraid to speak it out boldly, like a kid in a candy store who’s never heard the word “no.”
Except, PSYCH! He owns the candy store, and now you can never leave because he’s going to feed you sugar until you die.
Whether he completely believes everything he says or not, he knows you’re ripe for the picking.
All of it bums me out, but highest on the list is how the label of Evangelical has been dragged into it.
JESUS WOULDN’T VOTE FOR DONALD, MMKAY?!
Somewhere deep down, I’m sure Jesus loves Donald as much as he does the rest of us, but even he has to admit the man is batshit crazy.
Jesus wants a government of justice and peace for ALL, not just the hardworking, white American. His heart breaks every time one of his children is gunned down in the street again, no matter what color their skin is. He designed that skin. He knows every scar inside and out, and he says you are enough.
That’s what I believe with my whole heart; that’s the Jesus I know.
But if you don’t know that, then it makes sense that you would see the label Evangelical Christian and automatically brace yourselves to meet another asshole like Trump.
And sometimes, honestly, we are. But some of us are trying our hardest to show the difference.
I hope you see it, I hope it gives YOU hope, and I hope that the next 8 months will go by quickly and painlessly.
Goodness, can I have some fries and gravy with that cheese? Canadian OWT.
I cried in church today.
Not that I’ve never done that before. Anything can make me do that – a song, a prayer, a hug from an old friend.
Today I cried because I saw something I rarely see: community.
We gathered in a building behind the Tim Hortons – not just me and my people, but them and their people.
Multiple churches, multiple dialects of faith, all in one spot because it’s the end of the summer and this is what we do at least once. We pile in, we sing songs that we all know collectively, and someone chosen from the community speaks a message. We drink coffee together and we leave, feeling like real connection was made in that hour. Pastors, deacons, elders, middlers, young adults, teenagers, children, men and women – anyone who has a habit of going to the Church on a Sunday morning is there in equal measure.
Today, however, felt different.
The bodies were so close, the voices were so loud. I felt surrounded by a choir. My voice joined in, weakened by tears, strengthened by the words.
One pastor stands up, introduces the mayor and two female police officers. One of them is decked in the Mountie Red, another is on duty in black. They’re all asked to share why they are here today.
The mayor takes the microphone and smiles nervously: “I am here because I believe in the power of community. I am not a man of religion, by any means, but listening to you all sing just now – I felt the Spirit of God here. It’s undeniable. Smithers will benefit because of you.”
The woman in red takes the microphone. She’s young, new to town and new to the force. She’s a police officer, speaking publicly in a church building; she is practically a modern miracle. And why shouldn’t she be?
“I came here as a police officer because I want to help people. I know everyone says that, but it’s really true for me.”
The woman in black takes the mike from her. She starts to say something, but then she pauses, putting her finger to her ear. We sit in silence, wondering. After a moment, she says, “10-4, on my way” or something similar. Then she tells us, “I’m going to make this really quick.”
A laugh ripples across the crowd.
“I am here representing Cops for Cancer. We bike across the province every year to raise money for pediatric research. And if you don’t think pediatric research is relevant here – we all know of a little boy who is in Vancouver fighting for his life right now.”
We nod, and tears fill my eyes again. One of our own, a 10 year old boy who hadn’t been feeling well lately, had discovered his body was made more of cancer than blood and flesh and bone. Just a few days ago.
She tells us what we can do to help, and then she runs down the aisle of the sanctuary and disappears, because that’s her job. Any time, all the time.
We take up an offering. I pray that it goes directly where it is needed.
And then a man from the Salvation Army comes and speaks to us. He shows us a picture of this sculpture that is sitting in Toronto at this very moment.
It’s called “Jesus the Homeless.” He is lying on a bench in a shroud, and the only way to know that it’s him, is to see his nail-pierced feet peeking out. He speaks volumes.
We are led all over the Scripture, reading portions of passages where Jesus did nothing but reach out and spend his time with the poor, the sick, the marginalized, the unclean, the addicted, the outcast and the sinner – and the religious leaders did nothing but condemn him for it.
These passages are called The Gospel, or “Good News.”
Except it’s not news.
It’s not news that Jesus was a bit of a rebel, that he broke a lot of rules, made a lot of people angry with his all-surrounding compassion for just anyone.
It’s not news that Jesus would rather have dinner with a prostitute or a tax collector than a religious hypocrite.
It’s not news that Jesus never avoided anyone for the sake of his reputation.
It’s not news that he didn’t notice skin colour or background or age or gender.
So why do we act like it is?
I wept when I saw that homeless Jesus. I’ve seen him before.
I’ve also seen the poor Jesus, the aboriginal Jesus, the sick Jesus, the hungry Jesus, the black Jesus, the addicted Jesus, the gay Jesus, the mentally ill Jesus, the prostitute Jesus, the angry Jesus, the bitter Jesus, the strung-out Jesus, the imprisoned Jesus, the orphaned, abandoned, helpless, overlooked Jesus.
And I have not loved him.
I cried in church today, because we were all there. We all heard it, we all saw it. Even the mayor knows it now.
He’s right there, shrouded in the form of our community, just waiting to be picked up, dusted off, and taken in. It’s not too late.
Because once we’ve seen, we cannot unsee.
Because maybe, if we’re more like Jesus, then more people will want to become like us.
Because we all have a story, and we are all more than our labels, our backgrounds, our denominations or our mistakes. This is not news.
I cried in church today, and I think maybe God did too.