In the wake of Donald Trump’s re-election this week, many people I know are exuberant. That’s probably not surprising, given that I live in a military town in a “red” state. Folks around here are generally conservative by nature, both politically and morally. There tends to be a fairly deep alignment with Republican candidates on the issues that matter the most to many of the people I know and love.

On the other hand, I also have many friends whose opposition to Trump runs deep. For some, this is largely due to his rhetoric; for others, it has more to do with certain policy positions he holds; for others still, January 6th was a deal-breaker and they voted accordingly. I also have many friends whose values align more closely with the policies championed by the Democrats during this election cycle and that was the determining factor in their vote.

I don’t mean any of this to be a critique of either side — not in the least. I’m simply trying to carefully describe my perception of what my friends are feeling.

But one thing I have noticed is the sense of despair many of my fellow citizens seem to be experiencing in these days. That was probably inevitable in an election that was as contentious and as accusatory as this one. We’re exposed to an incredible amount of propaganda during these campaigns and no matter the outcome of the election, many of us were bound to feel this way.

But I also believe that the level of despair some are feeling reveals the absence of a greater, more meaningful narrative in their lives. (If you’re reading this, you probably know that I’m a preacher, so I’m about to preach — you’ve been warned.)

I believe that, at our core, we are spiritual beings. I believe we are creatures — meaning we have been created, intimately and lovingly designed by a divine Creator in whom we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). I believe we were made in the image and likeness of this Creator (Genesis 1:26-27) and that this image is most fully expressed in loving community. I believe that our Creator has set eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11), which is the animating impulse behind our quest for meaning and purpose. But I also believe that this purpose is only understood in light of the purposes of the Creator God. My faith tradition is not “creedal” per se, but the Westminster Confession pretty much nails it, in my view: “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him, forever.” Or maybe you prefer the words of another preacher, from Ecclesiastes again: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man,” (Eccl. 12:13). This is our telos, the purpose for which we were created.

So what happens when we reject this “chief end?” What happens when we deny the claim that the Creator has appointed and purposed our lives down to the level of living and moving and being?

In the absence of God’s grand narrative of eternal purpose, we seek to create these for ourselves. We ascribe outsized meaning to some lesser ideals. We will try like mad to make the finite infinite. We find some other purpose for which to live and we devote every ounce of our moving and being toward this aim.

And inevitably, this aim proves unsatisfactory.

In the end, we are met with the grim reality of our idolatry (yes, it is idolatry). We are forced to reckon with the truth that our self-created telos falls woefully short of satiating the deepest desires of a heart set on eternity.

When you buy the lie that the sum of life is to “eat, drink, and be merry,” you reach a point when you realize that wall-to-wall hedonism isn’t a grand enough purpose for a human life. And then you despair. Why is it that we’re never satisfied with indulgence? It’s because we were made for more.

Or when you convince yourself that “he who dies with the most toys wins,” you eventually reach a point when you realize that death comes for us all. Materialism is wholly unsatisfying as well — because we were made for more. Your heart ultimately rejects this as an unworthy telos.

And when you believe that activism is your highest purpose — when you succumb to the siren song of the ultimacy of the political process — you reach a point when you begin to question whether the utopia you’re striving for is even possible in this broken world. And when this happens, despair follows quickly thereafter. And I think that’s what some are feeling and expressing right now.

This simply reveals the truth of our lives, the bold claim of our Creator whose song is strange and gentle and gracious: you were made for more.

When we accept any claim other than this, we set ourselves up for despair. But even in the despair, there is hope — the hope that in our dissatisfaction we will continue the quest for eternal significance.

This is my theological interpretation of the despair some of us are feeling in this moment.

The despair itself is evidence of the false narrative we have consumed. And this false narrative manifests itself in a number of unhelpful ways.

Take, for example, the claim that we’re hearing from many on the left in the wake of the election: Donald Trump’s victory is proof that Americans are racists and sexists.

I’m no political science major, but I know enough to know that people have myriad reasons for why they choose to vote (or NOT vote) for a particular candidate. Almost everyone I know weighs their vote with great solemnity, examining the policies and positions of a candidate before they cast their vote. It is both simplistic and insulting to reduce those reasons down to a simple line like, “If you voted for Donald Trump, you’re a racist / misogynist / fascist / fill-in-the-blank slur.”

The great irony I see is that many who are making these accusations are actually guilty of racism and sexism themselves. If you voted for Kamala Harris solely on the basis of her gender, this is sexism. Likewise, if you voted for Kamala Harris solely on the basis of her race, this smacks of racism. Of course, as I just said, I understand that people have myriad reasons for why they vote for certain candidates. But it just seems incredibly hypocritical to accuse one side of the most egregious sins of humanity without also taking a look in the mirror to see if you might be guilty of the same thing.

All of this is in conflict with our telos, the purpose for which we were created. God is comprised of an eternally loving relationship of persons: Father and Son and Spirit. That is why God is most fully imaged in the context of loving community: persons committed to God and to one another in mutual understanding and self-giving, sacrificial love.

Anything short of this leads to despair.

But when we align ourselves most fully with the purposed will of our Creator and live in love with Him and our fellow image-bearers, we live with hope — a hope in a Kingdom which cannot be shaken (Heb. 12:28), a hope in an eternal inheritance which can never perish, spoil, or fade (1 Pet. 1:4-7); for those who hope in the Lord will have their strength renewed — they will soar on wings like eagles, running but not growing weary, walking but never growing faint (Isa. 40:31).

Sermon over.

Don’t give in to despair.

The Good News of Jesus is a word of hope.