hope

  I used to fancy myself a little politician. Way back in highschool, I would debate and research and protest and debate and lose my mind over things I was passionate about. My red-headed temperament (not necessarily temper...well, maybe sometimes), came out in full force if I felt I needed to (and could) defend my position or persuade someone to think twice about their view of things. I can remember my civics class with a very young teacher who also fancied himself a little politician {He told us he was planning to run for president in the year 2020 with the slogan 'A Vision for America.' Genius.} and finding all things politics extremely fascinating. 

In college, when I felt I just could not bear another el ed class, I even toyed with the idea of changing my major to poli sci. But, somewhere along the way, life happened and my priorities shifted. It's not that I don't have opinions. It's not that I don't care. Because I do. But I just don't lose my mind over it anymore. I do my reasearch. And I make my choice while avoiding any and all heated discussions on Facebook. Which is why I'm suprised that I'm even writing this now.

But my heart has been heavy since the DNC came to Charlotte and everyone and his brother, mother, and cockatoo started throwing insults and jabs--saying things that, sometimes, I'm positive the person didn't really mean but in the heat of the moment said carelessly. I think that sometimes people forget that these are human beings we are talking about and not merely a platform or an opposing view point.  

My heart was heavier this morning as some people predicted the utter destruction of our nation as we know it while others touted the outcome as the saving grace of a floundering state. Some slept soundly last night resting on the laurels of a mere man while others, in their discouragement, called the future hopeless. Hopeless. And that's what really got me. Christians calling this situation hopeless. Calling anything hopeless. 

 As Paul and I were discussing the candidates this morning, watching the girls wreak havoc on anything in their destructive paths, he said, 'It's just a good thing our hope isn't really in either one of them.' Yes, the president's job is important. Yes, we should vote. And, yes, we should make sure we  vote for the person whose beliefs align with our morals and convictions. But, really, we don't need Obama or Romney. We don't need someone who's black or white or purple or blue. We don't need a woman or a young person or a more experienced person. We need Jesus. We need a collective heart as a nation to help the poor and needy, to hold ourselves to high standards, to love others. 

 

Hopeless? I don't think so. That's putting limits on a God who has no limitations. That's putting our trust in mere flesh. That's cheapening our faith and letting Satan win. Those two men are not our Savior. And, regardless of  who you voted for, if you have faith--you have hope. 

 

So don't be discouraged. Be passionate. Debate. Research. Pray. But don't lose your mind over it. And don't lose your testimony. I heard a man on the news today say that just because we have the right to do something, doesn't mean we should do it. And just because we have the right to say something, doesn't mean we should say it. Weigh your words. Measure your speech. Whichever camp you hail from, show grace. But most importantly, be hopeful. We serve an amazing God who is not bound by our fears or failures or carefully laid plans. And I am more thankful for that than ever. 

 

In other news, Election Day was a landmark day for many reasons. A record number of women holding seats in the Senate, the president's record breaking tweet { Sorry, Beiber.}, and my children learning how to drink from a straw. Groundbreaking, y'all.  

{Also...as far as I've heard, that particular teacher will not be seeking the presidency after all, just so you know.}