Understandably, much of the American public is sad following our recent presidential election. Eight years ago I wrote that I had never seen an election filled with so much emotion. Of course, the overriding sentiment was much different. This time, there is palpable disappointment, even fear. I've had to console others while myself grieving something entirely different - the loss of my beloved grandmother. Last weekend she departed at the ripe age of 97, leaving a state of disbelief that her ubiquitous presence will be no more. It seemed that she would always be here, and that our scripted exchanges - limited due to my broken Chinese - would never grow old. "Why are you dressed so nice?" was her common greeting when she saw me, even if I was in full weekend mode in sweatshirt and jeans. I took each compliment in stride and immediately returned one back at her: "Your hair looks really good!" (which it did, because I would often see her after going to the hairdresser). When annoyed she would declare, "Your mother is so frustrating!" To which I would respond "She's your daughter!" My sister and I were in constant rivalry trying to out do the other to see who could make my grandmother laugh, ending in an inevitable tie each time because my sister's inferior language skills would produce outright laughter just for not making any sense.

My sadness for my grandmother is a different sadness than I feel for our nation. It's interesting that though different, they stem from the same root: the futility of the human condition. I am sure to be sad again on different occasions, but only while my cry grows louder - Come, Lord Jesus, come.

It's presidential election season, and you've likely had your fair share of  the candidates (unless you've hidden under a rock - in which case, why would you be reading this?) With the last change of office in POTUS came an undercurrent of hope, with many swept up by the prospect of change. This election has revealed that people are still attracted to the rhetoric of change. There is a continued restlessness, though one can argue it looks different with each election.

To interpret the persistent restlessness is to first realize that people know that things are not the way they're supposed to be. And the truth is yes, they aren't, and they will never be until Christ returns and God's Kingdom is fully established. This yearning tells me that we were meant for something better (2 Corinthians 5:1-5). Second, this ought not to leave Christians apathetic about the present. We ought to care deeply about our government, as its establishment is God ordained (Romans 13:1). Third, we must live in the tension of the already but not yet - knowing that Christ is the ultimate King but as He instructed, we are to continue to bring the gospel to the ends of the earth (Matthew 28:19-20). And then the end will come (Matthew 24:14), and an inauguration I can't wait to witness.