Of All This Ugliness, I Repent

My gosh, this election.

It’s been long, difficult, and ugly.

I was hoping that the ugliness would finally abate now that all the votes are counted and the presidency is cast; I was hoping we’d struggle a little bit, maybe, and then get on with things. We’d be civil again. We’d find our way back together in spite of the dark, but…

This ugliness.

Throughout the election my social media feeds became something of a sad and sorry caricature of what they’d used to be. Prominent Christians—friends on both sides of the political spectrum—posted some incredibly hateful things.

Mean things.

Unnecessary things.

And I get it, kind of. There are issues that people are rightfully passionate about. I am passionate about these things too but passionate isn’t the garden path towards malice: We don’t need to make demonize those that disagree with us, do we?

These were people I respected. People who formed me in my Catholic faith while I was still an Evangelical. People I looked up to with starry eyes, that I’d held on a pedestal; I longed to emulate.

Modern day saints—or sinners.

Or, me.

Because, yeah, I said my fair share of stupid things too.

We all, I guess, got caught up in something that was a bit out of control. We could blame each other. We could blame a reduced level of discourse. We could blame reality television or the bourgeois or we could be the mature, adult Christians that we ought to be.

We could be Christ-like: forgiving.

Why do we need to blame anyone anyway?

You know, in his ministry on earth our Lord Jesus Christ was most singular in his expressions of anger. It was directed, almost exclusively, toward the exact sort of wretched people we’ve become.

The hypocrites; the Pharisees.

And, truthfully, the Pharisees get a bit of a bad rap because they were legitimately following what they understood to be God’s Law. They’d just twisted it, made it more difficult for others to follow too. They’d become showy and inward looking.

Theirs was an empty faith; pious but missing intention—missing the point.

Enthusiastic but not heartfelt; by all accounts they did not want to lead others to holiness but lift up themselves, in contrast.

And here we are: hurling insults and sharing memes and tearing each other down.

I mean aren’t they supposed to know that we’re Christians by our love?

I’ve seen Christians that I love and respect—people who command the attention of thousands—say all sorts of ridiculous, inappropriate, and cruel things. For goodness sake, the world is watching.

(And it’s getting the trots.)

And I know, there’s a lot going on and some people are hurt and some people are excited and some people feel a sense of vengeful vindication but how we respond in these next coming days and weeks and months needs to be firmly grounded in Christ—not in some sick and stupid emotional response.

Not in our gut reaction.

Because it isn’t appropriate to laugh at, or jeer, or insult those that supported the losing candidate. My God, they are people and made in the imagine of God. Some of them are scared by what they’ve heard, some of them are being silly, but all of them deserve our respect because we’re supposed to be Christians.

And, likewise, it isn’t appropriate to characterize all of those that voted for the winning candidate in unflattering, rude, or inappropriate terms even if it sounds good at the time or you absolutely must say it or risk exploding if you keep it in.

Don’t, because it isn’t necessary—and you won’t explode.

Our responses, for the sake of the Body of Christ, need to be rooted in love and not fear; in decency and respect and kindness because we’re meant, at our cores, to reflect Him Who Sent Us.

And, my God, I shouldn’t even need to say this but we need to love each other. Everyone.

And repent. Repent of all this ugliness.

And I’ll go first—

Because we don’t need to hit share or like or send if what we’re sharing, liking, or sending isn’t going to uplift the Body of Christ—isn’t going to uplift our brothers and sisters.

Because what we need now, most of all, is to figure out a way to come together again. To reunite. To build each other back up because we all deserve to feel loved and respected and cared for.

I’m making a choice to shed myself of the hate and anger and ill-will and I hope you do too.

And I repent.

Lord, I repent—of all this ugliness inside of me.

Of the broiling hatred and angst and anger.

Of the bravado and arrogance.

Of the malice; the naked disregard for my fellow men and women.

I repent.

I want to be better; I want us all to be better.

My God, I repent.

Of all this awful ugliness.