I woke up at 2:30am and rolled over, sensing that the space beside me was empty, and then saw that Javen’s bedstand light still on. Turning the other way, I reached for my phone and read the headline: Trump won Pennsylvania. I got out of bed and went downstairs to find Javen where I left him hours earlier—lying on the couch, checking election returns. I heard his rundown of the painful results and took some relief in the Minnesota outcomes, but kept going back in shock to the national trends. Republicans gaining ground almost everywhere, and Trump on track to victory even after everyone knows what he plans. I slumped to the floor, leaned on Javen, and said, “It feels really hard to love my neighbor.”

There will be more hard years ahead because of the triumph of white Christian nationalism, with life-changing pain for immigrants, queer folks, women, and other people I love. Trump will pursue his plans for migrant concentration camps, the hate unleashed against trans people won’t be bottled up again, and the Supreme Court with a conservative supermajority is one decision away from removing recognition of my marriage. I feel shock, betrayal, anger, and hurt. Can I continue to live in a country that so decisively opted to support Trump after all that he’s unleashed into our public life? Is the electoral system hopelessly rigged against good people finishing first? What more will it take to build a life-saving country that values the thriving of all its people, and contributes positively to the global community?

James Russell Lowell has a couple lines of poetry that came to mind. He laments the upside-down injustice that crucifies goodness and lauds evil: “Truth forever on the scaffold. Wrong forever on the throne.” I first heard those words in the speeches of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who quoted them for their clarity of describing how it feels when wrong (so often) prevails. But Dr. King followed them up with the rest of the poem. Even though truth seems “forever on the scaffold”, “yet that scaffold sways the future. Behind the dim unknown stands God, Within the shadow keeping watch above [God’s] own.” The poem in full proclaims faith in a hidden God to remain faithful, keeping watch and working to turn even the bad things good. I don’t believe in a deity who has all things scripted already, or who intervenes for some lives and not others. But I trust that there is still power in the ways of loving righteousness, and I want to dedicate my life (again) to pursuing its paths.

In addition to all the other feelings that wash over me, I feel clarity and determination. The nation and everyone in it have been waiting for the results of this election for months, and now we know. We know that truth is not always rewarded, we know that patriarchal white supremacy lingers with well-financed force, and we know that Christian nationalism has the power of the White House. We don’t yet know how the multiracial, multifaith movement for equality will respond, but I’m determined to be a part of it. We will need community, justice, and joy in abundance to carry each other through what’s ahead. I will be writing more to encourage such neighbor-centered care, will be organizing with even more focus on building all-inclusive communities, and will be seeking joyful renewal to sustain my (our) spirits. Keep the faith in whatever gives you the most hope, and join me in building powerful community that better realizes the prayer of Jesus, that God’s reign might truly manifest on earth as in heaven.