I have spent much of today making the rounds and checking in with people on my campus I thought might be reeling from the results of the election, and from the responses to those results that compound the hurt they experienced during this long and bitter campaign season. And while I hoped I might be of some help to people who are hurting, I find that the act of reaching out and connecting has been balm for my own bruised soul. I’m glad for the respite from social media, even as I am mindful that this virtual space too is my mission field. So I’ve made my way back here with some thoughts and words that had until now been hard for me to find.

To all my women friends, and my LGBTQ friends, and my black and brown friends, and my immigrant and international friends, and my friends from various faith backgrounds (including Christians) or from no faith—I know many of you are hurting right now. I know that many of you experienced this result as a grievous and wounding attack on your very persons. For you, I know, this decision goes way beyond politics and policy and law and government—goes directly and painfully to whether there is a place for you at all in the new nation we all woke up to. And I hurt because you’re hurting.

Thanks to my walkabout earlier today, though, I know more than that. I know that you are amazing in your beauty, power, resilience, and dedication to the well-being of each other and of our community as a whole. I know that however much you might be reeling from what’s happened, you are absolutely and emphatically there for each other—and for me. I’m honored and awed by the privilege of being in ministry with you and to you and on your behalf. And I’m pledging to you right now that I will never stop standing with you and fighting for you and working to bring about the vision of beloved community we share. 

At United Campus Ministry, where I am called to serve, we have always held ourselves accountable to the scriptural ideal that the justness of our community is measured by how we treat the widow and the orphan and the stranger, how we treat those on our margins. We have always dedicated our heart and soul and mind and strength to loving our neighbors—all of our neighbors—as ourselves. We have always concerned ourselves with speaking truth to power and with bringing the voices of those whose voices have been disregarded to the ears and the hearts of those who hold and wield that power. These things we have always done are who we are, and there’s no way we’re going to stop now. Because you—all of you—deserve nothing less.

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