People have been messaging me all day asking me what I thought of the election and it’s results. I am a little late to the party, as every commentator on the planet has had their say so far. Me? Well as I have written here before I am slow to process my emotions and it has taken me a while to settle down enough to write anything.

My side lost. Those (the picture) are the signs that have been in my front yard the past couple of weeks ever since the first sign was stolen. They have survived being pulled up (twice) and toilet papered (once). Today on the way to work I pulled them out and tossed them in the back seat.

My side lost. This election was of a starkly different view of what America should be, and what kind of people we want to lead us. I am, as one commentator said this morning, on the wrong side. The problem with America is, evidently, people like me.

It certainly is not the first time in politics my choice lost. It won’t be the last. But somehow it feels different. Like a sea change in what my own country stands for. I have spent my morning and some of the afternoon mourning. It took a change of people’s hearts to get us here. And now we are here.

I could rant about how I feel, but both sides have done enough of that today. Instead, since I often write here about what is going on in my head, I am going to talk a moment or few about my journey.

My life, since 2016. has been a journey in growth. In particular, a growth in compassion. I am as Waspy (white Anglo Saxon Protestant) as you get. I never had to think much about compassion. In the household, particularly with my mother and my favorite grandfather, people were simply treated as people. All of them had rights. All of them were to be treated with kindness and respect. People who were down and out were helped. We (the family and the nation) cared enough for people that if we had to sacrifice a bit to help others, that was A-OK. As a young person I came through the civil rights era, and the war on poverty and if they were never perfect, they represented something I was raised with. Care for others.

My church (I was raised Methodist, but we Methodists don’t have a lock on this by any means.) taught me Matthew 22:37-40 was at the core of faith. It’s famous enough even many non Christians know the verses: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’^[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. ³⁹ And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Simple. Clear. No qualifiers that said “Love these people or those people but certainly not THOSE people.” Love. No exceptions. And in my life and in my ministry, I have been exposed to more and more of THOSE people. I have a gay son and a lesbian daughter. I work with the poor and the suffering middle class regularly. I deal with different nationalities. I see what they go through. Neglect. Hate. Prejudice. Bad treatment for things that have nothing to do with their worthiness of love and care

As a nation, we have progressively moved away from that Matthew 22 ideal since 2016. There are plenty who still live in that love, no exceptions place, who put it into work in their lives and their faith. Who believe in honesty and kindness and a whole country as opposed to a fractured one. But we are officially a minority now.

I hate it.

These things run in cycles. I believe compassion will again become our norm. I believe it will happen in my lifetime, which is not that long from now.

But I also know this. It does not happen unless we stand up for the things we believe. I have lived long enough to know that this policy or that policy on economics or regulation or foreign policy changes a few things, but nothing fundamental is ever changed by them. They sway back and forth and somehow even out.

But how we think of each other. How we treat each other. That is fundamental. Take compassion and kindness and respect for each other out of the equation and we become something hard and harsh, far from what we have aspired to be for the past 150 years.

Since 2016, I have become more compassionate. Partially because of my own experiences with other people. Partially because the woman I married is deeply compassionate and I have heard the stories and met the people she works with. It has made me more verbal. More willing to step into a controversial discussion when people are mean, hateful and cruel. More willing to write to the idea of compassion.

It’s not always comfortable for me. I have been a conflict avoider all my life. I would let others say it, let others do it. But if the pendulum is to turn back to a more compassionate world, those of us who want that, who believe in love, no exceptions, are going to have to step up. Not always fight, but also not letting hate, prejudice, and injustice go unchallenged.

So what does the election mean for me? I am a little scared. People I love and respect are going to be minimized and at times put in danger. People like me will be put down. So be it. I was taught to live in a certain way. Seminary taught me more about living that way. My experience in Hospice, as a spiritual counselor and nearly 11 years of ministry have made my conviction stronger.

What does the election mean for me. That nothing changes. Matthew 22:37-40 is still my guiding light. My job is to love. And my job is to tell the story of why love works where anger does not. And my job, now it seems, is to be more vocal about it. Maybe yours too. Enough voices changing, just a little, can change our world.

Love my friends. No exceptions.

Be well. Travel wisely. The world needs you.

Tom