Photograph by NADER AYMAN via Unsplash

What does it mean to provide care in times like these? This is nearly the same question my lead pastor asked me recently. She said, “How can I lead these people through this?” How do we keep going when our fear is palpable? How do we keep taking one foot and lifting it to step forward? How do we make eye contact with people who we know care more about their grocery bills than people’s rights? How did we get so far into Christian nationalism that millions of Americans want that to be the voice for our country? Which brings me back to the original question, slightly rephrased: how do we provide care in a very divided country?

I wish I had the answers. I wish I knew exactly what to do so we do not continue feeling the sting of the divisions around us. Instead, I look to Jesus. Jesus wept. First and foremost, to take care of others, I need to take care of myself right now. I need to feel, I need to weep, I need to surround myself with like-minded individuals who need to talk through it all. I need to sit in the deep emotions of fear and anxiety and anger and grief. I need to allow myself space to cry all the tears. I need to allow myself to be sad and scared and angry for a time.

And just like Jesus, I need to get back to work. He wept and then he went and raised his friend from the dead. I will weep and then I will get up and keep fighting the fight for those on the margins, for those who will feel it the most, for the poor, for my friends of color, for my trans son, for my LGBTQ+ siblings. Jesus wept and then went with the Roman officials heading toward his death. I hope it doesn’t come to martyrdom to get things done, but I have offered my life to God in whatever way. I will do what I can; I will learn more to teach better from the pulpit and one-on-one with congregants. I will join a group of people fighting together, I will send what money I can to places like the American Civil Liberties Union. I will stay informed instead of disconnecting from the world.

Above all, I will love. I will continue to love all people despite differences and will teach others to do the same. I will love deeply, strongly, and thoroughly through my words and actions. I will sit with those who voted differently and maintain curiosity to understand the why behind the vote. I will ask questions in hopes of leading them to see the importance of loving others with our votes. I will try to teach as Jesus did, with many questions and stories shared to point toward the ways of the kingdom of God on earth.

I will also sit with those who mourn and listen to their stories, the ones that have been and the ones to come. I will sit in fear with them. I will continue to show up when needed, I will continue to listen well, and I will attempt to be slow to anger. I will love myself by allowing imperfection to be okay. I will not look away from the pain of others, even when it hurts my own heart. I will stare right into their eyes and offer the only comfort that I can: God is here. God is among us, God has proven through the ages to allow humans the natural consequences of their choices, but God also has intervened when people cry out. So we will cry out together in prayer.

And then, when I need a break from the loving and the working, I will rest. I will breathe. I will choose time with my wife, friends, and kids who still want to laugh and play games. I will binge-watch funny shows on Netflix, and I will take a vacation. I will go to the theater and the ice-skating rink; I will look for simple pleasures that can give me brief moments of joy and escape. I will pray. I will stretch. I will buy a new sweater and shoes. And then I’ll get back to work, get back to learning, and get back to loving all.

I will not close my eyes and ears for too long. We must stay awake in the garden, we must keep watching. We cannot care for others well if we fall asleep.