Narrow Margins

So. Nobody wins.

The myth of scarcity, the fear of other, and the rhythmic force of silent money: that narrative wins races, and people lose. And while neither party has the exclusive rights to that narrative—we hear it from every corner—this morning’s results show us where, on the map, those tactics speak the loudest.

And yet…  that fearful story won so narrowly, in so many places. Is that good news or bad news?

It is bad news that, no matter who wins, half of the country wakes up with a sense of impending doom. It is bad news that mistrust runs rampant through every conversation at every level of government and community. It is bad news that people with obscene amounts of money can mastermind an entire political career– ensuring that the law of the land will always suit their personal interests.

It is really, really sad news that good people can be led to vote against their own best interests; bad news when politics become steeped in ideology, thinly masked classism, and not-even-sort-of-masked sexism and racism.

It is bad news to lose by a narrow margin. It’s kind of like losing the World Series by one run in the 9^th inning of the game 7. It’s a lot like that, actually.

But here’s good news, maybe—the narrow margin means that, no matter who’s governing, somebody is always trying to tell a better story. Maybe it’s good news that, no matter who is in office, some people, and communities of people, are always driven to transform the rhetoric into something they perceive as more life-giving and just. When that energy is properly directed, it benefits us all.

My prayer today is that dissatisfied citizens in every place will do some real, soul-searching discernment about WHY they are angry or restless. What is their fear? What is their hope? Is it real or manufactured? And what story would they rather be telling?

And then, with some insightful responses in hand, go about shaping that better gospel in their place.

Because here’s what else we know: when elections are always so angst-ridden, and so dang close it will break your heart—then the two party political system has lived its day, and needs to be laid to rest gently. Half of us will always wake up feeling afraid. Half of us will always wonder, with horror, what in the world the other half was thinking. We will always be walking around with a vague sense of unease and mistrust.

And people in power will always use that do their advantage, and our destruction.

We have to ask ourselves who wins, in a system so divided. Who reaps the benefits of our fear, our mistrust, our crippling sense of scarcity?  Who wants to keep us at each other’s throats? And what are they trying to push through while we are thus distracted?

We all have our own answers to those questions…and they vary as dramatically as the polarizing rhetoric that blocks real change.  But I’m certain of this one thing—an overwhelming majority of regular people in our country are exhausted of all the drama, and would line up in droves to vote for a real conversation, and a governing body devoid of private interests.

…

Those little dots are me staring at the screen for a long time, recognizing that I have no articulate punch line for this post. No answer, no action plan, no satirical retort to at least make you laugh. Maybe it’s because I’ve been hacking up a lung for the better part of a week—which is just as exhausting as watching talking heads on polarized news outlets. Maybe it’s because I’m moving again (again) this week, which is every bit as demoralizing as reading Facebook comments on political posts. (Note: Do not read Facebook comments on political posts).

So I’ll give you this. It’s all I’ve got today:  Jesus worked from the margins. He started in the edges, with the others, and moved inward from there. And he says that the people in power will never be the ones to change a broke-ass system, because the broke-ass system still works for them. Change has to come from the rest of us. And we have to get past the petty stuff if we’re going to transform the world’s narrative into one that looks like the gospel.

Good news always comes from the edges. And sometimes the narrow margin can be the thinnest of holy places, after all.