I was once the Grinch.
Politically speaking, I mean.
I was well-intentioned. I really was. However, I put so much
stock into one candidate that I was letting his loss take me down a path to
bitterness.
Let me explain.
When the primary season for the presidential election of
2016 began, I was all in favor of Ted Cruz. He was the candidate for those of
us who loved the Constitution-driven ideals and persuasive abilities of Ronald
Reagan. He may not have had the looks, but boy, he could argue and persuade the
voters with whom he was in contact. We even saw that in the YouTube video that
surfaced of him changing the mind of a farmer (and Trump supporter) in Iowa
shortly before their caucuses.
If this wasn’t our man, no one was.
When Trump announced his candidacy, I, like many
conservatives, thought it was fun but didn’t think it would last. I mean, the
core of what Trump was saying was true; we needed to address illegal immigration,
Obamacare needed to be repealed, etc. But he had such a coarse way of saying it
and a sordid history that most didn’t think he had traction. And when he continued
to grow in popularity and his policies (or lack thereof, I thought) came up to
the surface, I thought that it would not last. “Trump is just a flash in the
pan; Cruz is the representative of the movement,” I told myself and others. The
liberals and the media weren’t scared of Trump, I thought. They were of Cruz.
Even that video of Jimmy Carter talking about how Cruz was more dangerous
proved it. In the debates, Trump was entertaining, but a boar. Nobody would
take him seriously.
The rumblings continued, though. By January, before the
first primaries, I was a little concerned, but hopeful. Everyone was talking
about Trump, but there was no way he could win. When Cruz won Iowa in February,
I knew we had this in the bag. Later, when Trump won New Hampshire, I thought
that is just New Hampshire. Iowa was more of a representative of America and
the Republicans would never fully give into Trump.
Boy, was I wrong. And I was slowly becoming heartbroken with
my country and political party. How could such an idiotic, narcissistic, bully
of a human being ever gain in so much popularity? What in the world led to this
degradation of our standards of human decency?
But it continued. I watched as Trump mocked everyone who
opposed him. How he personally tweeted an insult of Cruz’s wife, even after the
meme he was responding to was revealed to be published by a group not
affiliated with the Cruz camp. How he didn’t quickly shun the endorsement of
David Duke. How he ridiculously propagated a hack tabloid story on Cruz’s
father being involved in the assassination of JFK. But I held out hope that
somehow this clown would not be our choice. And every once in a while Cruz
would win a state, like Wisconsin, and keep that flame of hope going.
Then Cruz lost Indiana. And bowed out of the race.
I was finished with the Republican Party. I sat down and
wrote a scathing blog post (which I didn't finish and posted partially month's later--see below post) denouncing the GOP
as an immoral institution only focused on the economy. Gone was the party of
the moral compass of its pro-life stance. Gone was the party of opposition to
federally-forced gay marriage. All was lost, I thought. There was no way Trump could beat Hillary. Even as I write this, I am flashing back to those
feelings of indignation.
When Trump came to my state and insulted my governor, I was
appalled—and even tweeted directly at Trump. And even though my primary vote
would not matter, I still voted for Cruz. I planned to change my party
affiliation to independent after the primary, and there was no way I would vote
for Trump in the general election. I wouldn’t vote for Hillary, but Trump was
out of the question.
This state of indignation and bitterness lasted for several
weeks. I argued with people about Trump, even arguing with my grandfather in
several cases. Every little instance of political talk always turned to Trump and my
hatred for him. It was a time of friendless self-injury.
I eventually realized how dogmatic I had become and didn’t
know what else to do besides just give up on the election and changing my focus
to something else. I even got off Twitter to escape it. I tried to focus on
everyday life.
During this time, for some reason, I started listening (then
watching) to the Andrew Klavan Show regularly. I had enjoyed his previous
commentary videos on PJTV and other things he put out (particularly the “I’m
Angry, so I’m Voting for Donald Trump” video). I saw his frustration with
Trump, but also his way of putting a humorous spin on it and I began to make
listening to it a regular occurrence. I then subscribed to the Daily Wire so
that I could watch the full podcasts, as I also found his tastes in literature
and culture similar to mine.
To be able to see another human being angered about what we
thought was the downfall of the Republican Party, but yet still see that person
treat that downfall as a comedy, slowly changed my perspective on humanity.
Andrew had this Shakespearean way of finding the humor even in tragedy that
slowly opened my eyes. I began to see that life is more complex than what many
times we make it out to be. When it comes to humanity, it isn’t always the good
against the bad. Good people aren’t always the right people, and bad people
aren’t always the wrong people.
Around the time of the national conventions, I went to visit
my grandparents in Florida. My grandfather, an ardent Trump supporter, and I
stayed up late to watch Hillary Clinton’s acceptance speech. As we watched,
both Granddad and I had the same repulsed reaction to her obvious lies,
corruption, and pandering. I realized I felt a kinship to my grandfather that I
would not have felt before, knowing he was a Trump supporter.
When Andrew Klavan came out and stated he planned on voting
for Trump just to attempt to escape the freedom-eroding Hillary presidency, I
accepted his decision. By this time, I didn’t see anyone who supported Trump as
a mindless idiot who was brainwashed by simple rhetoric (which, I sometimes
still have trouble not seeing Sean Hannity as). However, when it came time for
me to vote (I voted early the week before the election), I still struggled with
an uneasiness of mind. I knew I would probably end up voting for Trump for the
same reason as Andrew, but I went back and forth in my mind between Trump and
Evan McMullin. I knew, however, that the latter wouldn’t win and had grown to
distaste his self-righteous soft stances. Eventually, after I filled out all
the other questions on the ballot, I went back, and with a clench of my
stomach, voted for Trump.
Even though I knew that God would not fault me for doing
what I thought was right at the time, for the rest of the day, I still struggled
with feelings that I betrayed my conscious and merely did the politically
expedient.
However, by the weekend before the election, I knew I had
done the right thing. The thought of a Hillary presidency scared the indecision
out of me. And the closer we got to Tuesday, the more kinship I felt with the
rest of America. Who knows if we were about to win, but we were doing the right
thing. The smug media thought that Hillary would (and should) win, so I know I
had done the right thing. The liberals on the far ends of the country were out
of touch with the everyday concerns of the working class, so I knew they had to
be stopped. I spent the night before the election playing Jason Aldean’s
“Flyover States” over and over again.
The morning of the election, I drove to morning prayer, then
work, noting a hint of change in the air. It was here I fully understood
Trump’s appeal; we were on the verge of possibly putting our country back on
course, of possibly sticking it to the elite who were trying to run our lives,
but ruining them in the process. It was today when the jobless coal-miners in
Rust Belt and the over-regulated farmers down here on the southern plains were
about to have their say. Sweet Freedom filled the air.
That evening after work, I went to my parent’s house to
watch the election coverage (and eat some good brisket). There was a great mood
of excitement. This could be the night. And as the night went on, Trump kept
his lead. I was hopeful, but reticent. He was winning all the Southern states,
but we had to wait until the Midwestern states came in, and, of course, the
Western states would go to Hillary.
When it became apparent Florida would go to Trump, my mind began to change. First Florida, then Ohio, then North Carolina, then Wisconsin. Michigan was even putting up a fight. The Blue Wall was toppling like the walls of Jericho before the people of Israel. It was apparent that this night would not be as easy for Hillary as was first thought.
I was invited to another viewing party at a friend’s house.
It was when I was here that we saw Pennsylvania flip to red. Even though we had
a few more hours of grueling torture to see who would win the state, it was
that point that I knew it was over for Hillary.
And now, looking back, it seems that I was ridiculous to
fight the rise of Trump after he was the nominee. I remember when I was arguing
with my granddad about Trump’s trade policies, he told me, “The people whom it
affects want it. The people with jobs who don’t rely on local industry don’t
care.” I was blind to what he was saying at the time, stuck in the ideology of
politics, but not the practicality. What he said now makes sense. Donald Trump,
even with all his failings, is the everyman’s candidate. He is Joe the
Plumber’s, Mike the Dairyman’s, Frank the Coal-miner’s choice. He was able to
do what the Republican Party has not been able to do for the last few decades:
reach the working class.
And I was too blind with self-righteousness to see it at
first.
After the election, my pastor made an analogy of Jehu
ridding Israel of the wicked Jezebel; Jehu was not the most righteous of men
(and was even judged by God later on in life), but he was God’s chosen
implement to bring about the end of unrighteousness in Israel. Yes, Trump has
the responsibility to stay true to what he has promised and be an honorable
president. No, he cannot act the way he did before without major ramifications.
But he was God’s implement to cut short the destruction and judgment on our
nation.
Do I think that America is free from this scourge of elitism
and arrogant secularism? No, of course not. We have a major fight on our hands.
But we have been given a chance to repent and turn this country around. The
binds of political correctness and self-hatred have been lifted off the backs
of the American people. This great nation’s citizens can once again breathe
easy.
It is Morning in America again.
And I have learned the lesson of a lifetime in the process.
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“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the
wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” -1
Corinthians 1:27
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