There is a lot of chatter, even from me, about how very divided “we” are, about how dire is the state of the nation and even the world. Much of this chatter is completely justified. Just one such example, was the spectacle of President Biden, a week ago today, staring into the middle distance. There is not sufficient shared culture, especially if you look online, that would indicate that the American Experiment is sustainable into the next century. What can a single person do to stave off the inevitable?
I’ve been working diligently for the last twenty years to learn the language and attitude of love. I say this, of course, so that you will admire me and feel a little bit bad about yourself. As a content provider, or influencer if you will, it is important that you realize the depth of my virtue which is only enhanced if you doubt yours. This is why I bring it up.
JK (just kidding if you don’t know the lingo). I am a bad person, and from the first moments that I consciously set foot on American soil, I had no affection for my nation. I am what you call a Third Culture Kid. My passport country is America, but my heart country is Mali, in West Africa. Given the chance to ditch everything and go there to live, there would be no contest. I would smile a Mona Lisa smile, my bags already packed, my expression shifty, and I would be on my way.
Of course, if you know anything about the state of world affairs, you will know that moving to Mali, West Africa is not in the cards for most people today. And so, because the Lord is my Shepherd, I have submitted to the yoke of learning to love the people here. And this is meet and right, for the people in the town of my children’s birth are curious and splendid. Here are four local snapshots of the best thing about living where I live—in America, but also in Binghamton.
the people of Aldi
Yesterday afternoon I managed to get a rushed appointment for a child to the eye doctor, and then, because we were already in the car, we rushed over to Aldi where I managed to spend exactly two hundred and four dollars for the weekly shop. I was fatigued, and could not think of the self-checkout line with any sense of exuberance. I succumbed to my own weakness and went through the old way, allowing a friendly and agreeable young man to scan my enormous cart of items for me. The woman behind me caught my attention. “Do you bake a lot?” she asked, peering into my cart. “No,” I said, “but my girls do.” “Do you know where to find a one-pound box of sugar?” she asked. I paused to think, for indeed I could not. Before I said anything, she explained, “I need it for VBS. I’m in charge of the snack.” And thus, in the way that happens to me in almost every store in this town, I had a wonderful conversation with a lovely person about church and God. When I said I would pray that she might find the suitable kind of sugar, she put her hand over her heart and said she should have prayed first.
Moments later, outside of the store I ran into a person in my very own church whose commitment to visit the sick and beleaguered is unparalleled in human history.
the people of the Parking Lot
One of the reasons I’m not a political liberal is that I believe in social cohesion and the work of Christ through the Church. Government Programs are fine, and in my congregation, we have several people adept at coordinating with local agencies like HUD—but, and it’s a big one, the assumptions of the state are material only. They do not take into account the life of the spirit.
And so, day by day, many people pass through the parking lot by my church, grasp their need for something more. They stop in the doorway to ask for prayer before they ask for the pantry. They collapse into the not-very-comfortable chairs in our narthex and admit that they don’t know how to make life work, they are in danger of losing everything, they need help. And so we stand around and pray, and collect clothes, and try to explain about Jesus. And suddenly we glimpse not only the optimistic vision of De Tocqueville, we remember that it is always the care of one person for another that, in the words of these latter days, creates space for spiritual cure and cultural renewal.
the people of the Southern Tier
There has been a lot of discussion, recently, about the Great Sort—that business of people leaving places that are ideologically opposed to sanity and moving to Tennessee, mainly, and also to Florida. New York and California are the worst. And, who am I to say otherwise? When I read things about California, I shudder and bless God that I am not like those other people. But people say the same things about New York, though perhaps in more muted tones.
But. I mean. Real people live where I live. It’s not ideology that makes a place interesting or the people good. It is that they are allowed to depend upon each other, to work hard, to go to church, to weed their gardens (and in New York to smoke it), and to cope with whatever catastrophe might be just around the corner. What makes—or at least has made—America a great country is the goodwill, the open expression, the kindness, and commiseration in the face of trouble or heartbreak. To cede one inch of that ground to spurious ideology is heartbreaking.
we the people
The scope and measure of Diversity and Equity and Inclusion, at root, is a deep insatiable desire for goodness. For no one wants to live, however quietly, in a house where the neighbors on the other side of the fence or the wall have no inclination to friendliness. DEI and the gospel of inclusion flow from the font of human need for understanding, love, and acceptance. These are good and desirable, and the greatest of them is love.
One of the things that made America great in the past is that a preponderance of the citizenry understood that only the love of God was sufficient to fill up the corners of the human heart, to satiate each human soul with a love that never gave up, no matter the corruption of darkness it encountered. But we—and indeed the whole world—have become excessively confused. We thought that the trifecta of HR, Blue Cross Blue Shield, and Tinder would be sufficient to satisfy the need to be known, understood, and loved.
Of course, only Jesus can do that. Progressives and Conservatives alike should admit that there is no human solution to our troubles. Kamala Harris will cackle her way to the apocalypse. President Biden will smile and sleep. Mr. Trump and the jostling roster of Biden Replacements will fundraise until November but the only person who can know your needs, whose yoke is kind and whose burden is light, is the Lord Christ. For July Fourth, do the best thing, go to church (on Sunday at least…unless your local congregation holds divine service) and enjoy your burger and fireworks with a glad and grateful heart.
The scope and measure of Diversity and Equity and Inclusion, at root, is a deep insatiable desire for goodness.
Again, Anne, with those words by naming and properly valuing the underlying value of DEI, you opened the space for conversation, a space to talk about how that deep desire has only ever been satisfied by the living God in Christ our Lord. You offer a template for conversation rather than misunderstanding and battle. Thank you, Anne. Well done
I just have to say that I moved to Tennessee almost 12 years ago and one day I was having small talk with a native Tennessean in Aldis and when she found out I moved here after living in California my whole life (since I was 7) she told me "to go that hell back where I came from". That was the first and last time I shopped at Aldis.
I also got ripped off by a Christian contractor right after I moved here to the great Volunteer state. The irony is I thought I was moving to the holy land of the south. My first visit to Walmart I had some large white guy with a cowboy hat welcome me and then he proceeded to tell me all about the niggers who lived here. He was lucky I didn't slap his face being the racist pig he is.
The bad rap Californians get is ironic given the rich Christian heritage of the state. It's the corrupt fascist government of California that is causing people to leave there only to go to a spiritually weak and dead land like Tennesse. Tennessee boasts of so many things, but the weather sucks, the nicest people here are not native to the state and the churches are weak. I think that's why the Lord moved us here. To wake this place up.