The Jewish ghetto prayer:

I believe in the sun, when the sun is not shining;

I belive in love, though I do not feel it;

I believe in God, though God be silent...

Like the majority of people reading this, I woke up this morning to the news that result of the referendum on Britain's membership of the EU was to leave.  Unlike the Scottish Independnece Referendum, where I was genuinely torn and knew I'd be sad whatever the outcome, this time I knew fine well what I believed, and so I lay in bed struck dumb, beyond words, beyond tears, beyond comprehension.

My social media feeds, like those of most people, consist mainly of those with whom I have broadly similar views, but not entirely.  I do count as friends people who voted to leave, and people who were as conflicted about this referendum as I was about the other one.  Even so, Twitter and Facebook are, for me, seas of tears, oceans of expletives... and still, small voices urging calm, love, reconciliation.

I still bear the scars I gained trying to speak into the post Independence referendum result.  My (affirmed by many as) balanced and hopeful words somehow inflicted wounds I could not have anticipated on others I love.  All forgiven, long since, but I can't quite forget... The scars itch this morning as I sit here and, as I said on Twitter try "to be grown up and care for those God has called me to serve."

Today I feel a blend of fear and sadness... Not anger, people voted as they believed to be best, based on the information they received and their own experience. 

Perhaps, if I lived on a sink estate in a former industrial city in the middle of England or Wales and my family has been down-trodden for generations (and there are plenty for whom that is true) I would have felt differently than I do.

Almost certainly if I was an EU national who had left behind family and friends to offer my gifts and skills in the UK, I would feel betrayed and rejected.

If I was the age of my nieces and nephews, I would wonder what on earth the future held, and what education, employment and other opportunities have been lost.

And for the 'bumps' some friends right across these islands are carrying, one confirmed only a few days ago, what future now for their unborn babies?

I also fear the swift pointing-fingers and blaming... people of this age, or who were born in that place, or who voted the other way at the last general/whatever election...

What I do know, is that however I feel, however we feel, we cannot turn back the clock.  We have to move forward from this place. And how we do that is hugely significant.

I choose today to love my neighbour, as I love myself:

Those whose voting choices I disagree with

And those who voted as I did;

Those who now fear for their future,

Those who are angry and those struck-dumb.

I choose today to have faith and hope:

That goodness is stronger than evil,

That most people are more good than bad,

That nothing is beyond redemption.

Today,

With tears in my eyes,

And clinging on by my finger tips,

I reclaim the defiant convication,

"That all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well"

However you voted (if vote you were able) and however you feel about the result, may God's healing love be yours this day.