Remember the night before the election, when I told you I'd been singing an old hymn to a new tune? It's a hymn with a story. It was written by William Cowper, who spent his life struggling to see the goodness of God while burdened by crushing mental illness.
I went to confession on Saturday afternoon ("Bless me, Father, for I have been A JERK about the election") and my pastor reminded me about the permissive will of God: you can believe in the sovereignty of God and still acknowledge that an awful lot of stuff has hit the fan over the years. In singing about the will of God I have not suddenly decided that this situation is his active will. But I am certain that I could see the goodness of God in Aleppo or in a famine, so I will pull my socks up and aim for a better attitude about 21st-century America. Wary and resolute, but also optimistic. I believe that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, just like Psalm 37 says. (I might look a little bit possessed if I try to make a wary-resolute-optimistic face, but you'll know I mean well, right?)
First thing this morning I called all of my Congresspeople plus Mitch McConnell to make some noise about Bannon's appointment. It doesn't take very long to leave a voice mail: "My name is Jamie Gladly. I am Senator XYZ's constituent in Gladlyville, and I would like to register my strenuous objections to Steve Bannon's appointment as chief strategist. I would like to urge Senator XYZ to do everything in his power to keep Bannon out of the White House. Thank you for your consideration." Will they listen? No idea. Did it make me feel better? It really did, actually. And my 17yo said, "Thanks, Mom, I appreciate that you're calling them."
Recordings in which I am singing push every one of my perfectionist buttons. But you know, I'm really glad I was brave and posted the hasty one with baby Stella in 2009 (oh my gosh, look at those thighs! and remember a world in which toddlers who didn't sleep were our idea of a big problem!*). When I look back at it now I don't wince the way I did when I posted it. So I am going to be brave again, even though I am worried that these high notes may cause you auditory distress. If I had been perfectionistic this morning about The Right Thing To Say that would make Mitch McConnell leap into action, I wouldn't have done anything at all. So here's to imperfect action, and the hope that these lovely words, recorded in more haste than I might wish, may bring you some solace as well. (If the in-line audio player doesn't cooperate, you should be able to right-click and listen in a new tab.)
*seriously: I got a rejection notice today from a journal that had given me promising preliminary feedback, and I was just like, "Yeah, well, bigger fish to fry." Instant perspective! How's that for a teeny silver lining?
God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform.
He plants his footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines of never-failing skill
he treasures up his bright designs and works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take: the clouds ye so much dread
are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head.
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour.
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.
There are two other verses at this link if you're curious. Huh, I might need a new blog category. I refuse to call it the President Trump category, though. What should it be?
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