Where Do We Go From Here?

A few reflections on the election

Photo by Ed 259 on Unsplash

(A seven-minute read.)

I don’t want to wade too deeply into politics in my newsletter, but I did want to share a few thoughts in the aftermath of last week’s election results.

I’m talking, of course, about the state of Maine’s befuddling decision to not return to its original state flag.

I’m just kidding—though I do have some rather zealous thoughts on that!

One week ago today, the United States—in a rather decisive victory—re-elected Donald Trump as president (after a four-year hiatus).

As soon as it became clear that he had won the election, I had relatives and close friends who experienced the full range of human emotions. And I mean full range.

I knew people who were basically “dancing in the streets,” busting out bubbly and acting as though Jesus Christ himself had returned.

And I knew other people who were utterly despondent and beside themselves, giving serious consideration to moving out of America.

I won’t tell you where I fell on the spectrum, nor whether I did or didn’t vote for president-elect Trump (though I’m sure longtime readers of this newsletter can probably guess as to my leanings).

But what I did want to do in this post, as I did in my sermon this past Saturday, is share a few brief reflections on what I believe we’re called to do in the wake of this election. In some ways, these reflections are a challenge to both “left” and “right,” an invitation to, especially to those who claim to be followers of Jesus, remember our constant responsibility as people trying to live out God’s kingdom of love in this world.

And the source of these reflections largely comes from Martin Luther King, Jr., whose speech, “Where Do We Go From Here?”, delivered in Atlanta, Georgia in August, 1967, is both moving and challenging.

I found myself turning to it for some reason this week, and I read it in its entirety (having never read it before). It was powerful, almost bringing me to tears.

In the speech, King reminds his listeners of the great task before them in their fight for civil rights. He encourages them to keep moving forward, inspiring them to remain committed to the pursuit of full racial and economic equality for the Black community in America (which included, in his mind, a “guaranteed annual income”).

In the speech, he reviews many of the wonderful gains they’ve made in their fight for equity and justice, but also cites the many ways they’ve continuously been kept down by Whites.

And then, toward the end of the speech, he turns his attention to the “weapons” of their effort, making it clear that violence was not an option. They must remain committed to nonviolence, because hate could never produce the sorts of outcomes they were after.

In these reflections, he shares some of the most notable and memorable lines that many people might be familiar with. I’ll just quote a few paragraphs at length (including the response of the audience, which the Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute at Stanford University features in its transcript):

And the other thing is, I’m concerned about a better world. I’m concerned about justice; I’m concerned about brotherhood; I’m concerned about truth. (That’s right) And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can’t murder murder. (Yes) Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. (That’s right) Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate through violence. (All right, That’s right) Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that. [applause]

And I say to you, I have also decided to stick with love, for I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind’s problems. (Yes) And I’m going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn’t popular to talk about it in some circles today. (No) And I’m not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love; I’m talking about a strong, demanding love. (Yes) For I have seen too much hate. (Yes) I’ve seen too much hate on the faces of sheriffs in the South. (Yeah) I’ve seen hate on the faces of too many Klansmen and too many White Citizens Councilors in the South to want to hate, myself, because every time I see it, I know that it does something to their faces and their personalities, and I say to myself that hate is too great a burden to bear. (Yes, That’s right) I have decided to love. [applause] If you are seeking the highest good, I think you can find it through love. And the beautiful thing is that we aren’t moving wrong when we do it, because John was right, God is love. (Yes) He who hates does not know God, but he who loves has the key that unlocks the door to the meaning of ultimate reality.

And so I say to you today, my friends, that you may be able to speak with the tongues of men and angels (All right); you may have the eloquence of articulate speech; but if you have not love, it means nothing. (That’s right) Yes, you may have the gift of prophecy; you may have the gift of scientific prediction (Yes sir) and understand the behavior of molecules (All right); you may break into the storehouse of nature (Yes sir) and bring forth many new insights; yes, you may ascend to the heights of academic achievement (Yes sir) so that you have all knowledge (Yes sir, Yes); and you may boast of your great institutions of learning and the boundless extent of your degrees; but if you have not love, all of these mean absolutely nothing. (Yes) You may even give your goods to feed the poor (Yes sir); you may bestow great gifts to charity (Speak); and you may tower high in philanthropy; but if you have not love, your charity means nothing. (Yes sir) You may even give your body to be burned and die the death of a martyr, and your spilt blood may be a symbol of honor for generations yet unborn, and thousands may praise you as one of history’s greatest heroes; but if you have not love (Yes, All right), your blood was spilt in vain. What I’m trying to get you to see this morning is that a man may be self-centered in his self-denial and self-righteous in his self-sacrifice. His generosity may feed his ego, and his piety may feed his pride. (Speak) So without love, benevolence becomes egotism, and martyrdom becomes spiritual pride.

There is so much good stuff in these three paragraphs, just as there is in the whole rest of the speech (including his famous summary of nineteenth-century Unitarian pastor Theodore Parker’s idea that “that the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”), and I would encourage you to read—or even listen—to the whole speech.

But what I’m really inspired and encouraged by is Dr. King’s relentless and unwavering commitment to love. No matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, love is the answer.

Indeed, love, as he powerfully pointed out, is “the key that unlocks the door to the meaning of ultimate reality.”

Of course, the sad and tragic reality is that just eight months after this moving speech, Dr. King himself became a martyr for love. While standing on a balcony outside his motel room in Memphis, Tennessee, he was brutally murdered by James Earl Ray—the victim of his commitment to a “strong, demanding love.”

So where do we go from here—whether we’re exuberant about the election results or utterly downcast?

Whether we feel like our party is now the one in “power,” or whether we feel like America is heading toward certain tyrannical and despotic rule, we must—I’d propose—remain committed to the way of love (especially when we recall that, though elections matter, we’re living in a much bigger, transcendent story).

Such an attitude and posture doesn’t devolve into a sort of naïve, permissive, sentimental kind of love (as Dr. King pointed out).

But it does mean we seek to continuously be people of compassion, kindness, patience, empathy, and understanding.

It means we don’t vilify and demonize (or mock and make fun of) those with whom we disagree or try to coerce and manipulate people into our values and behaviors.

I don’t know exactly what it all looks like, or how love gets “cashed out” in every societal (or political) context and situation. I just know that I personally want to remain committed to love.

Because, after all, “He who loves has the key that unlocks the door to the meaning of ultimate reality.”

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Shawn is a pastor in Portland, Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.