the burden of pretending

Yesterday at work, I felt a fresh wave of sadness as I read news of yet another friend losing a loved one to COVID-19. When I told my wife, she said, “This is getting scary. Please don’t die.” Anger joined with my sadness when I heard about another friend who was not wearing a mask in public because she does not like wearing them.

Men in America have often been discouraged from expressing their feelings, especially the “weak” emotions, like fear or grief. Real men are supposed to be tough and controlled, maintaining a veneer of strength even when inside we are feeling deep pain.

Christians are no better off. Our fear is discouraged when we are reminded that the Bible says “do not be afraid” 365 times (side note: it actually doesn’t, though it does frequently address fear). In the midst of sorrow, Christians sometimes “comfort” the grieving by saying “Everything happens for a reason.” When Christians are angry about injustice, we are told to remember the importance of unity, which is often code for “Keep quiet.” I believe this is especially true for Christian women.

If this is place where you are coming from, you may wish to stop reading now. You have been warned.

I am afraid. I am afraid that my wife or my children will die from COVID-19. I am afraid of what would happen to them if I died. I am afraid that I will never be able to hug my mom again. I am afraid that if I do catch COVID-19 that it will affect my mind. I am afraid that things will never be the same. I am afraid of what will happen if Trump fails to concede the election. I am afraid of what might happen as he continues to spread falsehood and propaganda.

I am angry. I am angry when I see friends defying mask requirements. Some days, it takes everything within me to not say, “Put on a f@%!ing mask! If you don’t like wearing one, stay home!” I am angry when people seem to be more concerned about their individual liberties than loving their neighbors. I am angry when president Trump continues to spread propaganda and insist that he will still win when there is no path to him doing so. I am angry that he continues to promote suspicion and division in a deeply hurting nation that desperately needs leadership. I am angry that other leaders in what used to be “my party” continue to support his delusion and deception. I am angry when I see people twisting facts that are plainly obvious.

I am sad. I am sad that people are sick and dying. I am sad that our hospitals and morgues are full and that our healthcare providers are exhausted. I am sad that people keep pretending that COVID-19 is no worse than the flu or that it is politicized to keep Trump down. I am sad that suicide rates have skyrocketed. I am sad that since December, I have only spent an hour with my mom. I am sad that I have barely seen my dad or my wife’s parents this year. I am sad that my daughter’s wedding was not what she had initially planned. I am sad that I won’t get to go home for the holidays. I am sad that many people seem more committed to Trump than they do to the United States. I am sad that I cannot join together with my friends for coffee and embrace.

Maybe you are angry, afraid, or sad about the same things I am. Maybe you feel differently than I do. Maybe you feel these things and you have no idea why. Regardless, let yourself feel. God created us with emotion. Jesus felt every one of these things and he never apologized for them.

Pretending is a heavy burden. Be who you are. Give space to others to express their emotions when you have the margin to do so. Beware of the tendency to spiritualize or shame others for their emotions. Instead, listen without judgment and love without reservation.

Be reasonable

Historically, Christians have believed that Christianity is not only true, but objectively true. We believe that God created the universe. We believe that a man named Jesus lived 2000 years ago, that he was crucified on a Roman cross on a Friday, and was physically resurrected on Sunday. We believe that after his resurrection, he appeared to hundreds of people. (See 1 Corinthians 15). Evangelicals have boldly proclaimed the truth of Jesus. Christian philosophers, apologists, and theologians have dedicated themselves to demonstrating that Christianity is both reasonable and objectively true.

However, too often as I watch American Christians in the public square, I feel discouraged. They blatantly disregard information that is well-established and widely accepted, yet they believe and promote conspiratorial thinking and propaganda, which they have often heard from the lips of charlatans. At the fringes, their thinking reaches delusional levels.

I am concerned that as the world watches evangelical Christians rigidly clinging to propogandist thinking while denying facts that are not only possible, but objectively almost certain, any claim that Christians make to be people of truth will be either ignored or mocked. Why would anyone believe us when we say that Christianity is true, when we so obviously dismiss what is broadly accepted as fact? We know that some will reject Jesus, but when it seems that we care nothing for truth in other areas such as science or politics, we lose credibility.

Let us be people who are committed to truth wherever it may be found. We should be known as critical thinkers who are not only willing to ask, “Is this true?” but “Is this reasonable?” What does the preponderance of the evidence tell us? Where are we getting our information? When we are uncertain, let us be willing to ask the three questions1: 1) What do you mean by that? 2) How did you come to that conclusion? and 3) Is it possible I am wrong?

Until we can demonstrate to the watching world that we are loving and reasonable, the Truth we proclaim will be no more than a punchline.

1 The first two questions come from Greg Koukl at Stand to Reason.

Broken Ramparts

I am sad today, hot tears threatening to spill out. My friend shared this song with me earlier, which brought me right to the edge. Over the past few years, my life and my faith have been upended. The carefully constructed ramparts of my faith once allowed me to observe pain and suffering from a safe distance, but I did not know that I had built everything on shifting sand and when everything collapsed, I wandered about in a daze trying to understand how the broken pieces fit together.

In his severe mercy, God has been patiently revealing the reality of suffering, not every day, but in doses I can (barely) handle. Suffering is a universal phenomenon, but I feel its sharp bite most exquisitely when I am brought face to face with the pain I have caused to others, often under the banner of righteousness. I have twisted the truth, betrayed friends, and misused both professional and spiritual position in service to unholy ends and it tears me up inside.

Most days, if I think about who I was becoming, I still question whether I am trustworthy. How can I now claim to live with integrity when my words and actions had become so dis-integrating? How can I be certain that I am not still deluded, unloving, abusive? Maybe someday I will know the answers to those questions, but not today. For now, I will continue to press into my discomfort, seeking to know myself and live from a place of love.


As I thought about betrayal today, I was reminded of my favorite movie, Braveheart. I identify with Robert the Bruce, the presumptive leader of Scotland, who utterly betrayed William Wallace in pursuit of power and position.

I cannot stay silent

I tried watching the debate on Tuesday night, but I soon turned it off. The behavior I was witnessing stirred up old memories.

When I was in junior high, my mom started dating the high school shop teacher. There was a rumor that years earlier, he had been abusive toward his first wife, but he was so charming, it was impossible to believe. He was mechanically gifted and often shared stories about the wonderful things he had done and made and more than once, he used his gifts to help others. Their relationship progressed and they eventually married. Over time though, his grandiosity and narcissism became increasingly evident and along with it, abuse.

He never hit me, but he never missed an opportunity to take shots at me, to remind me of my worthlessness. I regularly heard that I would never amount to anything. Name calling, manipulating, gas lighting, and eye rolling were a daily occurrence. He was verbally and psychologically abusive. He was a malignant narcissist.

When they had been married less than a year, I was selected by my teachers to go to Badger Boys State. My mom and I had a difficult conversation on the way to Ripon College. I somehow found the courage to tell her that if he was still there when I got home, I was going to move in with my grandma. In the days that followed, she found her courage too and moved out.

I wish I could tell you that their separation led to a repentant heart, but it didn’t. His abuse and manipulation only intensified and it definitely took its toll on both my mom and me, but ultimately, leaving was the only healthy option. Sadly, the responses of friends and family were often less than helpful. People were incredulous that someone who was capable of doing good things was so evil.

Now, as a psychologist, I hear stories of abuse and manipulation every day, women and men who live under the terror of narcissists who seek to control and psychologically manipulate them, working to break them down to nothing. Too often, they succeed. The psychological scars left by narcissists are often multigenerational. As Diana Beresford-Kroeger said in her excellent book, To Speak for the Trees, “Trauma casts a long shadow.”  

As I watched part of the presidential debate on Tuesday night, I saw a lot of similarities between the president and my former step-father. I watched as the president rolled his eyes, scoffed, lied, interrupted, and belittled Mr. Biden. This is what abusers do, plain and simple.

To be clear, this was not merely an off night for president Trump. These behaviors represent consistent patterns over time. He talks about how great he is while at the same time demeaning and criticizing others. When he failed to decisively condemn white supremacy but indirectly told a white supremacist group, the Proud Boys, to “stand back and stand by,” I heard a vailed threat. As a psychologist, I can tell you that other abuse victims perceived the same things, even if they could not put words to it. Like me, many people had to stop watching.

As someone who has been psychologically abused and who also works with abuse victims, let me offer an explanation about why you may have felt the way you did. You were witnessing an abusive narcissist in action. Donald Trump’s words and actions are not simply a difference in personality style. He doesn’t act the way he does because he’s a New Yorker. He is a manipulative bully.

Sometimes manipulative bullies do good things. In fact, narcissists will take every opportunity to make themselves look better, not principally in service to the greater good, but in order to stoke their pride. As they build themselves up, they leave piles of confused and broken people behind them.  

For me, this election is not simply about policy, it is about standing against abuse on a national scale. For me, this election is not about platform, but about speaking out on behalf of the belittled and downtrodden. For me, the election is not simply about difference of opinion, but about using my voice and my vote to speak out against a man who has had four years to “Make America Great Again,” but by his words and actions has left us more deeply divided than we have been for generations. 

Let me also recommend some additional resources:

Those People

The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either – but right through every human heart…even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains…an uprooted small corner of evil.-Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Yesterday, my cousin posted a news article about a woman who had repeatedly punched a 12 year old who was carrying a Trump sign while riding his bike. Thankfully, he reported what happened and it is currently being investigated. I wish I could say something like this crime surprised me, but it doesn’t, at least not anymore. Sadly, I also was not surprised at the comments. People were quick to write that this sort of behavior is “typical” of democrats and we “only hear of democrats doing crap like this.” I don’t know about you, but this sort of animosity fills my Facebook feed every day. I routinely have to resist rushing in to defend “my side” and I am not always successful.

Here’s the thing: The problem isn’t those people. It’s you. It’s me. When we physically attack people for carrying Trump (or Biden) signs, we reveal the evil within our own hearts, not theirs. When we say this sort of behavior is “typical of democrats” (or republicans), we convict ourselves, not them.

Friends, our self-righteousness and divisive attitudes are literally killing us. We make sweeping assumptions about the hearts and motives of people who think differently than we do. We presume that those people are evil, so by extension, we must be good. The consequence of this way of thinking is division, not love, and every single one of us is guilty.

Let me offer a few thoughts:

  • When you feel compelled to share an article critical of those people, pause for a moment. Ask yourself, “Am I honoring their humanity?”
  • When you feel angry about what those people have said or done, ask yourself, “In what ways do I do similar things?” Consider not only your actions, but your words and thoughts, which have a greater effect than you might imagine.
  • When you want to respond to someone who thinks differently than you do, whether online or in person, practice the pause. Ask yourself, “Have I stopped to listen to what they are trying to say?” When we don’t try to listen and understand, we contribute to the hatred.
  • Resist the urge to call those people names.
  • Pray for peace, within the world and within yourself. If you have a hard time praying, consider reading the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi every day.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

Above all, do no harm…

I have been thinking about ethical principles for the past few days. Most professional organizations have a code of ethics that their members are expected to observe. Although the specifics may vary from organization to organization, there are often overarching principles that apply more universally. For example, ideas like beneficence (seek to do good to others), non-malfeasance (do not harm others), autonomy (do not infringe upon the freedom of others), and integrity (promoting honesty and truthfulness) are common. These principles work well on paper, but in real life, ethical decisions are sometimes less obvious.

The typical American citizen is not beholden to these same ethical standards; however, I suspect a large majority of us would agree that these are useful ideas to uphold. Doing good to others while avoiding harm to them, respecting their freedom, promoting justice, and living with integrity are all good things. But how do we make decisions when these principles appear to conflict, especially when our decisions feel infinitely complex? We are faced with questions such as: who defines what is good? How do I decide when insisting upon my freedom may bring harm to other people? How do we resolve the dilemma when something that is beneficial to one group of people may be harmful to another group of people? Most of us would also agree that these choices are not easy.

Thus enters primum non nocere, rendered, “first, do no harm.” This phrase is often attributed to the Greek physician Hippocrates, though it is not actually found in the physician oath bearing his name. Regardless, non-malfeasance is a good place to begin. If I am able to reasonably determine that my action or inaction may harm others, it then behooves me to choose an alternative if it is possible. Assuredly, beneficence is closely related to non-malfeasance. Seeking the good of others is virtuous. I would further suggest that for Christians, beneficence is central to our understanding of Christian love.

What has concerned me for some time is what appears to be a tendency to elevate autonomy above both beneficence and non-malfeasance. In other words, we often seem to be more committed to our personal freedom than we are to the well-being of others. We will loudly proclaim “What about my rights?” while seemingly overlooking or discounting the potential harm to others that might come from insisting upon our own way. Too often it seems, at least in 21st century America, our motto has become primum sui iuris (first, autonomy) rather than primum non nocere. I am doubtful that America’s founders saw autonomy as the highest good, although they clearly valued freedom. I am certain that Jesus did not value autonomy as the highest good.

How have we as Christians come to this place where our principal value, stated or unstated is not, “Do unto others as you would have done unto you,” but rather “Don’t tread on me”?

I suspect some people will read my words as rejecting autonomy. I’m not. What I am suggesting is that it appears, to me at least, that our values have gotten turned upside down. Jesus came and showed us how to live as citizens of God’s kingdom in this world, intentionally seeking the good of others and the glory of God. In fact, he went so far as to tell us, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13, NLT). This does not mean accepting the possibility of dying for your faith at some later date, but rather seeking the good of others even when it may cost you something. It means that when we are asked to do something that could benefit others, even though it means setting aside our rights, we will do so if it is reasonable.

If our primary citizenship is in the kingdom of the world, we will doubtless prioritize autonomy; however, if our first commitment is to the kingdom of God, we will seek to do good to others even when it means setting aside our own preferences or comfort.

Toxic Versus Healthy Skepticism

Earlier today, I shared an article written by David French on my Facebook page titled Coronavirus, Conspiracy Theories, and the Ninth Commandment. He offered us a lot of food for thought regarding political theology, conspiratorial thinking, and the connection with the ninth commandment, which tells us not to spread falsehood about others. The article stirred some great conversation and questions amidst my friends. My friend Tim offered some great push back and I suggested that it is good for us as believers to differentiate between healthy and toxic skepticism. He wrote, “I ask for you to help me differentiate healthy skepticism and toxic skepticism within myself.” I thought, “yeah…how do we differentiate?” So let me offer a few incomplete thoughts about how to recognize toxic skepticism within ourselves.

First, I think it is always good to start with ourselves, though so much of our culture invites us to look externally when things go wrong. I frequently encourage people to ask the question “Is it possible I am wrong?“, though I suspect that for many of us, our initial motivation is to question the truthfulness of others when there is disagreement. It is easy to assume that our assumptions and influences come from a pure heart while consciously or subconsciously assuming that others are motivated by evil, emotion, or ignorance.

The second suggestion relates to the first. We need to get in the habit of asking “What are the costs and benefits of accepting a viewpoint?” For example, 81% of evangelicals voted for Donald Trump in the 2016 election. There have been substantial costs to those of us in the 19%, especially when we have continued to express our dissent. For me, the most notable cost has been relational. Yet, there has also been benefit including finding a community of like-minded people who have a vision for what can be.

Third, I think it is good to ask how outlandish a perspective is? For example, known conspiracy theorist Alex Jones once said that the Sandy Hook school shooting that left 26 people dead was completely fake and was staged to promote stricter gun control policies. Jones was not merely offering an alternative viewpoint, he was spouting evil falsehood yet some people believed him. We need to ask ourselves, “Is it possible?”, “Is it plausible?”, and, based on the preponderance of the evidence, “Is it likely?”

Fourth, if we are considering rejecting the majority, or consensus, opinion, it is good to ask ourselves why we would do so. If the majority of epidemiologists, infectious disease doctors, and medical organizations suggest that wearing a mask represents current best practice in regard to COVID-19, it is good to ask ourselves, “Why am I willing to reject the majority in favor of minority opinion?” Some people are skeptical of scientists because they seem to change their recommendations, which fails to acknowledge that best practice in science allows for adaptation as new information comes to light. They were not lying to us; they were offering the best evidence at the time. Scientists are not only willing to ask, “Is it possible I am wrong,” it is crucial to the scientific method. I agree that it is frustrating when recommendations change, but it should not lead to the logical conclusion that we should then ignore them altogether.

Fifth, I think we need to be careful about confusing anecdotes with evidence. All of us hear counter-examples that stir skepticism. In my mind, that can be a healthy skepticism, but if we ignore mountains of data because someone we know said something different, it can be toxic. For example, if I know someone who developed COVID-19, had mild flu like symptoms, and recovered, it does not follow that I should then assume that that this coronavirus is not a big deal and ignore the recommendations from the scientific community. I must also consider the world-wide reporting about its seriousness.

Sixth, for those of us who are Christians, there are a whole host of questions that humility and prudence demand we ask of ourselves.

  • How do my theological presuppositions affect my understanding of the issue at hand?
  • Is it possible my theological presuppositions are wrong? How did I come to believe the things that I accept as true? Does my viewpoint line up with the Jesus’ moral teachings, for example, in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5 to 7)? Is my understanding of politics (or whatever issue is currently at hand) informed by the Bible, or is my understanding of the Bible informed by my politics?
  • Does the way I communicate my skepticism reflect the manner of Jesus? Let me suggest that smugness, pride, vitriol, and name calling do not reflect the manner of Jesus. I anticipate that some of you will bring up Jesus turning over the tables in the temple or calling the Pharisees a brood of vipers, but remember that in those cases it was religious people he was confronting. As believers, we are called to gentleness, patience, respect, love, and truth.
  • Am I more likely to believe religious leaders or news personalities than experts? If so, how did I come to those conclusions? Is it possible that I am susceptible to propaganda? Too often, I am afraid, well meaning Christians accept as true information they hear from people who claim to be Christian. It seems to me that the apostle Paul’s greatest concern regarding falsehood and deception was inside the church.

Seventh, it is good to ask whether we are adopting an adversarial mindset versus a cooperative mindset. I have elsewhere written about the difference between an “against mindset” and a “with mindset.” When we approach others from an “against mindset,” we view them as our enemy, which shapes our presuppositions about their motives. When we approach them from a “with mindset,” we recognize that we are interconnected and we become less likely to assume that they are out to deceive, manipulate, or control us.

Skepticism in and of itself is not evil; indeed, I think a measure of skepticism is good and healthy for believers who are encouraged to be as innocent as doves and as shrewd as serpents (Matthew 10:6). However, let’s not reserve our skepticism only for those outside of our camp. Instead, let’s be willing to ask:

  • Am I presenting this story or idea as incontrovertible fact and, if so, is there sufficient support for doing so?
  • Is my skepticism grounded in an honest wrestling with all of the facts or because “my people” told me what is true?
  • Have I done due diligence in confirming whether something is true?
  • Am I honoring others as people of value even if I disagree with them?

This world is not as it should be. Let us live as Christ’s ambassadors, committed to the truth and love he revealed to us.

Is it a difference of opinion?

Recently, I have been thinking about the phrase “difference of opinion.” In disagreements when we are seemingly at an impasse, we might say to another person, “Well, I guess we have a difference of opinion.” But here’s the thing: differences in opinion apply to subjective choices. If I like tulips, but you prefer lilies, we have a difference of opinion. Because each of our opinions are based upon our individual preference as “subjects,” neither of us is wrong.

On the other hand, there are objective truths. The earth is objectively round. It does not matter if it is your opinion that the earth is flat. It doesn’t even matter if you believe it with all of your heart. The earth is still round because the truth is based upon the object (earth), rather than the subject (you or me).

This implies that if you and I are in a discussion about the shape of the earth and I insist that it is round, but you insist that it is disc shaped, only one of us is actually right. We can actually verify it. If you say to me, “well, I guess we’ll have to chalk it up to a difference of opinion,” that phrase carries no meaning because we are discussing something that is either true or not true independent of our preference, opinion, or whim.

Obviously, some things are more clear cut. If you say that Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president of the United states and I say he wasn’t, we do not need to do much digging because I am clearly wrong. But every day, we face issues that seem less clear cut, for example around issues like global warming or the benefit of social distancing and wearing masks for COVID-19. When it comes to these issues, we may have “differences of opinion,” but our opinions do not determine what is actually true. We may not completely understand what is true, but it does not then follow that truth is relative.

It becomes even more murky when we get into interpersonal issues. Consider abuse. People may have radically different interpretations about what transpired in a relationship or an organization, but it still does not come down to difference of opinion because there are again objective facts to account for, even if those facts seem murky.

For my part, I think it is important to determine whether each “truth” being discussed is subjective or objective. If subjective, let’s celebrate one another’s preferences. If objective, let us treat one another with kindness and respect, but not write our disagreement off to a difference of opinion. We should also be willing to consider perspectives that are different than our own, while remaining committed to seeking after objective truth. Sadly a lot of the information we encounter on social media is neither science nor opinion, but propaganda posing as truth. Unfortunately, too many of us lack sufficient understanding of science, logic, and rhetoric to adequately determine whether or not information is trustworthy so we double down on our opinions, even if the results may be harmful to us or others.

I’m not a racist!

“I’m not a racist.”

I’ve heard or read multiple variations of this phrase recently. One meme stood out to me; it read, “We have some racists, but 99% of the people you meet are color blind and don’t have a racist bone in their body.” Even in that one sentence, there is a lot to unpack, though that is not my purpose today. What has been stirring for me has been pondering the impact of saying, “I’m not racist.”

Before I get to my thoughts, I want to say I understand. None of us wants to admit that we have biases and presuppositions, some of which are based upon race and some of which are negative. Racism is an ugly word because racism is ugly. If you are like me, hearing the word racist conjures up grainy images from generations past and we think to ourselves, I am nothing like those people. I was raised to treat everyone the same. A person’s color does not affect how I see them or treat them. I believe all lives matter. Therefore, I am not a racist.

But here’s the thing: Insisting that you are not a racist communicates several things. First, it communicates an unwillingness to listen to others and hear their stories. In every generation, people of color have been trying to reveal their pain and tell us their stories. They are saying to us, “Please listen! Even though slavery was abolished in the 1860s and the civil rights movement reached its peak in the 1960s, racism still exists. Let us tell you our stories.” Friends, when we say, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body” what we are communicating is that we don’t need to listen. “I’m just fine and I love everybody, thankyouverymuch.” Let me suggest that is much more loving to say, “Tell me your story. Tell me about your pain” than it is to retreat to clichéd phrases that shut down conversations leaving people unheard.

Second, it shuts down dialog. I believe one of the greatest tragedies during my lifetime has been the increased polarization between groups of people. Perhaps we have always been this polarized and it only seems to me that it has been worse. Civility has been replaced with name calling, listening with assuming, and unity with division. We talk about those who think differently than we do rather than talking with them. We start with the assumption that the problem is other people, which short circuits respectful, fruitful conversation from the start.

Third, it communicates an unwillingness to examine our own hearts. We Americans, and perhaps especially those of us who are Christians, are great pretenders. We assume that because we believe in God, no darkness remains within us. I have been in the church long enough to know that our public image rarely matches the state of our hearts. It is not just our nation that is divided, our hearts are divided as well. In Matthew 23, Jesus confronted the Pharisees telling them that they were experts in washing the outside of the cup, but that their insides were full of death. In other words, their external appearance did not match their inner life. One day, the divisions both within and between us will be reconciled (Rev. 5:9), but we aren’t there yet. We still have a lot of heart work to do.

Jesus’s brother James encouraged us to be “quick to listen and slow to speak” (James 1:19). Friends, can we seek to listen? Are we willing to face the shadow that lurks within each of us? It is only in facing our shadow selves that we can begin to heal our divided hearts and the divisions between us.

Rehumanizing

I have a hard time seeing anything good in some people. If you were granted a window into my private thoughts and even some of my private conversations, you would learn how judgmental I can be. In my desire to be an advocate for goodness, truth, and beauty, I sometimes fail to distinguish between a person and their behavior, and that gets to be a slippery slope. I’m fairly certain I am not the only one.

Every day, my Facebook and Twitter feeds are filled with anger, name calling, and general dehumanization. It seems there are no segments of society that are excepted from dehumanizing others–politics, media, religion. We too easily choose sides and go to war. Our chosen weapons disintegrate and dehumanize others.

When we read about the kingdom of God that Jesus told us about, it is a rehumanizing kingdom. When Jesus healed, he not only healed physical maladies, he rehumanized people, reminding them who they were. How can you and I carry that same message into the world?

Let me offer a few thoughts:

  1. Start with prayer. When you find yourself stirred and upset, pray for the one who upset you, asking God to bless them. Confess your self-righteousness, asking God to forgive as you also forgive (Matthew 6:12).
  2. If you choose to engage, take a page from Francis Schaeffer’s book and seek to deal with ideas rather than people, or even groups of people. For example, it can be good to discuss ideas such as injustice, deception, or media bias, but seek to do so without allowing yourself to devolve into name calling. Every person you meet is loved by God. Every politician, every media personality, every celebrity, every person on Twitter and Facebook bears the image of God. Start there.
  3. Develop sacred curiosity. Be willing to inquire where people have come up with their ideas. Ask them what stirs in their souls. What are their hopes or fears. Recognize that every one of us longs for truth, goodness, and beauty even if we get lost along the way. Seek truth not as enemies but as companions on the journey.
  4. Actively look for the humanity in others. Keep looking until you find it, praying that God would open your eyes to see others as he sees them.

I believe that God is in the process of reintegrating all that has been broken and damaged by evil. He invites us to join him as advocates of a better way, the way of agape love. Each day, we will have hundreds of opportunities to choose the way of reconciliation or disintegration, dehumanizing or rehumanizing.

Which will be choose?