We’re coming up on Easter. It was just one Easter ago when Covid struck fear into hearts around the world. All of the sudden toilet paper was gone and we suspected everyone of selfishness and hoarding. We questioned the morality of others based on the number of mask layers they wore—none being the most heinous offense. At the heart of it, we seemed to truly believe that our actions and behaviors could extend or shorten the number of our neighbors’ days. As if we have control over our God-given breaths which are known by Him alone.

If we already know today that half of our country will be feeling intense emotions like anger, fear, disgust, and distrust once the results are announced, how might we be the light of Christ? No matter the outcome, let’s determine to enter into these next weeks with our flag poles firmly planted in the Kingdom of Heaven where our citizenship truly lies (Philippians 3:20). And while we wait expectantly for our King to return, let’s put our own feelings aside and consider our neighbors (Mark 12:31) before ourselves. What will we do the day after the election?

When I was twenty-four years old and knee-deep in my doctoral degree in nineteenth-century literature, I thought that the desire of my heart was accomplishing my Ten Year Plan. Academics had been my comfort zone and, up until that point, I had successfully hit all the professional wickets with scholarships and fellowships paving the way. However, in the middle of completing my doctoral coursework, I felt utterly unmoored, unsatisfied and disillusioned by the cut-throat academic environment and struggling with the darkest depression of my life. I kept wondering why God wasn’t strengthening me to withstand this environment. I was supposed to be the light-bearer in this relatively godless world of academia—why was I failing?