When I was young and dreamed of glory

You have no control:

Who lives

Who dies

Who tells your story?”

-Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton

I’ve been thinking about stories a lot lately. Those we hear and those we ignore. What details are left out? Which versions are purposely silenced?

In history my middle schooler and I are reading about Native Americans and their first encounter with various Europeans. It’s shocking how much I did not know. The idea that many of us were taught—that America was a vast open wilderness ready to be claimed—is wildly untrue. While I already had some idea of this and had learned pieces of the history before,1 I was amazed to find how much more there is to learn. I read that we have considerable evidence of indigenous settlements that were much larger and much older than historians previously believed. There were pyramids in Peru that rivaled those of Egypt in splendor, which are also older. There were very advanced societies who were almost completely wiped out by the introduction of new diseases with the arrival of the Europeans.2 It’s a sobering thing to think about, and it’s an important reminder for us to consider the narratives we’re given.

To be fair to both my teachers and myself about my ignorance, I concede that there has been considerable scholarship and archeological evidence uncovered since I was in school. There are things that we know now that were not widely known in the 90s.

Part of that knowledge gap was likely due to information not catching up to the schools yet. But another part is that it was easier to hold on to outdated ideas for the sake of comfortability. If we downplayed the society that was already here, we could pretend like this country was built on a miracle as God’s plan rather than on the deceit and violence that actually occurred. We heard only part of the story because the narratives that were passed down to us deliberately left out the perspectives of the people who were already here when Europeans arrived.

Chronicles of the Kings

This summer my husband and I also concluded our reading of the Hebrew Bible with 1 and 2 Chronicles. Something that stood out was the general glossing over of some of the sins of the kings that were detailed pretty starkly in Samuel and Kings. I got a hint about what could be the difference in the tale when we got to 1 Chronicles 29:29.

“Now the acts of King David, from first to last, are written in the records of the seer Samuel, and in the records of the prophet Nathan, and in the records of the seer Gad.”

In the Jewish Study Bible, Shimon Bar-Efrat notes that “Jewish sources ascribe the composition of the book of Samuel to Samuel himself. But since his death is already recorded in 1 Sam ch. 25, the prophets Gad and Nathan, who are mentioned together with Samuel as the authors of a history of David (1 Chron. 29:29), are said to have finished the work.”3 Alternatively, “rabbinic tradition assigns authorship of Chronicles to Ezra the scribe and his circle.”4

It’s fascinating that the account attributed to prophets like Nathan (who openly confronted King David about his sin) and Samuel (who openly confronted Saul about his sins) contained details that were not included in the book attributed the more politically elite (and perhaps more politically correct?) Ezra.

Now, I am not a Bible scholar and these are simply things that I have noticed and could certainly have misunderstood. But I find it compelling to consider how even in the Bible we see differences in the way one person tells a story versus another. Whose story is being left out? In Chronicles, Bathsheba’s and Uriah’s stories are.

When we gloss over these types of things in our reading of the Bible, that often crosses over into the way we listen to people in our lives as well. If we dismiss the parts that make us uncomfortable or that challenge our worldview, we end up silencing people around us who do the same.

We see this frequently in our world today. The same events or political figures are seen through vastly different perspectives depending on who you ask. Which account do you trust? My tendency is to trust those who speak out like the prophets in the books of Samuel and Kings, who were bold enough to confront kings when their actions were harmful or lacked integrity. When someone’s words protect those with power rather than those without, I question if they are actually speaking truth or just seeking proximity to whatever benefits them most.

Chronicles of Confederates

While we were in Montgomery last month, I saw an exhibit from the Equal Justice Initiative that mapped out the building of Confederate monuments across the United States. Do you remember a few years ago when there was a significant controversy about cities removing such monuments to repair the harm of the past, while others declared that this was “erasing history?”

An interesting fact about most of those monuments is that they were not actually built by those who were honoring Confederate soldiers that they personally knew. In 1866, one year after the Civil War ended, there were only 2 monuments in the whole country. In 1877 (a full dozen years after the war ended) there were 54 nationwide. In 1920—in the midst of a resurgence of the KKK and a white supremacy movement in the U.S.—there were 957. In 1950 there were 1,377. In 1975 there were 1,529.

Today there are 1,865.

So, is it “erasing history” to remove those statues that glorify people who chose to destroy our country rather than give up their economic benefits from enslaving fellow humans?

Or was the real erasure the act of erecting those monuments in the first place — almost all of them decades and some over a century after the war was over?

Will we continue listening to those who claim that telling the truth about the past is radical or unAmerican? Or will we take the time to listen to those whose stories are often untold or forcibly silenced?

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This year I have read less nonfiction and have spent more time reaching for books that invite a sense of wonder or coziness. Over 70% of my reads so far this year have been fiction. About half of those are books that I’ve read before — one of them was a favorite from 2024, and several are familiar favorites that I have not picked up in decades.

Still going small

Earlier this year I posted about a growing pull in my soul toward going small. If you’re interested, you can check that out here, but the TLDR version is that we can feel overwhelmed when we look at the world’s big problems, but an antidote for despair can be taking on something small in our own little corner. That small dedication may help some of the big problems go smaller, too.

The small, practical things can often ground us when the world spins out of control.

This orientation toward wonder and smallness has had other effects, too. I feel less compelled to weigh in on every hot topic and less pressure to know and understand it all. It’s not that I am no longer engaged in the world around me, but rather that my engagement style has shifted. Fewer people see the work I am doing to “seek the welfare of my city,”1 and I feel less internal pressure to share my thoughts online as often as I was prone to do in the past.

I have found that when we recapture the wonder and beauty of small things, rather than relentless striving after the big things, something inside of us finds a measure of healing. Whether it’s Samwise Gamgee showing us the strength of faithfulness or Anne Shirley reminding us how wonderful it is to discover beauty in nature or in shared laughs with a friend among “the race who knows Joseph,” wonder gives us something to draw from when our spiritual wells run dry. It reminds us that there’s some good in the world, and it’s worth fighting for. 2

I hope you are making space this summer for whatever helps you find that wonder for yourself. And please do send your reading recommendations my way.

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It was a fascinating and somewhat jarring juxtaposition to be in Boston walking the “Freedom Trail” and hearing about the grit and patriotism of the founders of our nation roughly 250 years ago, and then a few days later to stand on the sidewalk along the street where Rosa Parks was arrested in Montgomery just 71 years ago. We learned not only about the events of the 382 day long bus boycott, but also the role that Montgomery played in the journey of the Freedom Riders who so bravely fought for integration and equal rights, and my mind immediately caught the linguistic parallel of Freedom Riders with Freedom Trail.

Yes, we have a Freedom Trail in Boston with noteworthy points of interest that are 250 years old (some even older), when America “became free.” But that freedom was not for everyone. The Freedom Riders, bus boycotters, Selma marchers and many more demonstrate how many people were very much not living freely only a generation before I was born — I realized while walking through the timelines that my dad would have been the same age that my youngest is now when the Civil Rights Act was passed.

There was so much to see and learn in both cities, and I really thought that I would come away with a lot to write about, but in a rare turn of events, I feel at a loss for words. There is so much to say, there are so many things to grieve, but where to even begin? It might take me a while to think of anything cohesive to summarize that trip, but I would like to share a few snapshots that stood out to me.

In Great Barrington, Massachusetts, there is a crosswalk that is painted with the words of Elizabeth Freeman, a woman who sued for her freedom using the words of the state constitution, and won in 1781. Her victory in court was instrumental in legally ending slavery across the state.

At the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, there is a collection of monuments to remember the humanity and grieve the violence against thousands of victims of racial lynchings in the United States. Each of the monuments hung from the ceiling with the name of the county and state and the names and date of death for those whose lynchings had been recorded there. It would take hours to read all of the names, and I did not read every one. But I did find the counties that have been the most influential in my life – the county where I grew up and the county where I live now both had monuments. The date in Tarrant County, where I currently live, was only about 100 years ago.

Is this America?

Right before we left on our trip, the news broke that Lorenzo Salgado Araujo was killed in Houston by an ICE officer. Less than a week later, ICE killed again, shooting 25 year old Joan Sebastián Durán Guerrero in Maine.

I thought of these men at the Legacy Museum, where I listened to a recorded speech from Fannie Lou Hamer testifying at the Democratic Convention in 1964.

Is this America? The place that declared so boldly 250 years ago that “all men were created equal?”

Is this America? The place that valued the restraint of government power so much that the first thing they did after writing the Constitution was to add the Bill of Rights, including the 4th amendment that gives people the right “to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures,” and the 5th amendment that declares not any person should be “deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law?”

Sixty two years have passed since Fannie Lou Hamer’s powerful speech, but I, too, question America.

I didn’t realize before this trip that Montgomery carried the nickname “the Cradle of the Confederacy,” and that it was the location of the inauguration of the president of the Confederacy. I find it powerful that the Equal Justice Initiative has taken this place with its tragic history of human trafficking and violence, and transformed pieces of it into powerful spaces of truth-telling and repentance.

It is nauseating to stand in a sea of names of human beings who were killed due to racial terror, some in my own backyard. But it is more nauseating to pretend that this history doesn’t exist or live in a fantasy where we romanticize the “Old South.” Truth-telling is not comfortable, but it is necessary to facilitate healing.

I thank God for the work of the Equal Justice Initiative and others like them. It helps balance out the horror in our national story to remember that there always have been, and there always will be, people standing up against evil. Some in court like Elizabeth Freeman. Some in advocacy like Fannie Lou Hamer. And some in truth-telling like EJI. This is America, too.

We, too, must make the choice of who we will be and which America we will build.

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$1.2 trillion would put Musk’s personal wealth higher than the economy of 173 countries. If he were a country, he would be ranked 20th in the world.2

This level of accumulation for one person is staggering.

Ironically—but not surprisingly—society’s freshly minted trillionaire is the same man who ran the legally dubious Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) program last year, cutting USAID and other programs that impact the lives of millions of people in the name of saving money and reducing waste.3

While reaching unprecedented levels of wealth for himself, his impacts on others through DOGE included:

• Layoffs of about 72,000 federal employees.4

• Chaos as some of those laid off were later deemed to be wrongfully terminated, and others had to be rehired because their roles were discovered to be essential. An analysis from the Government Accountability Office found that layoffs in the Education Department alone cost the government an estimated $38 million.5

• Billions of dollars worth of funding cuts for medical research for diseases like Alzheimer’s and cancer, flood mitigation in areas prone to disasters, and state health initiatives that help provide vaccinations and prevent outbreaks.6

• Deaths of an estimated 788,000+ people due to the dismantling of USAID.7 A study from the Lancet medical journal projects that global aid cuts—including both USAID and cuts from European nations who followed America’s lead—could lead to 9.4 million additional deaths by 2030, with 2.5 million of those projected deaths expected to be children.8

The CATO Institute reported in December 2025 that the federal government spent about $248 billion more between January and November 2025 (after DOGE) than it did in 2024 (before DOGE). According to the report, “Cumulative spending in every month of 2025 was greater than in every other year and was approximately as much as the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) projected in June 2024, or slightly less in real terms. There is no visible structural break in 2025 spending that coincides with DOGE’s start date.”9

Their chart of spending for 2025 (below) shows this trendline.

While the man in charge of these cuts sacrificed aid to some of the most vulnerable people in the world “to save the government money,” he continued accumulating unprecedented wealth for himself on the government’s dime. The companies that he owns, and that contribute to his vast wealth, have received billions of dollars in boosts from government funded contracts and tax credits in recent years.10

While businesspeople certainly have a right to be successful and enjoy the fruits of their success, at what point does this accumulation cross into the obscene? Even a small fraction of $1.2 trillion could make an incredible difference in the world.

Musk posted on Twitter in 2021 that he would sell part of his Tesla stock to give $6 billion to solve world hunger, if the U.N. World Hunger Program would provide him with a plan.11 The program’s director responded with a detailed plan within that budget, but Musk has yet to honor his pledge.12

In 2021 $6 billion was about 2% of his overall wealth, but today that percentage would be much smaller. He could donate that amount and still remain a trillionaire. In fact, he could donate significantly more to cover the (approximately) $72 billion U.S. foreign aid budget13 and still remain a trillionaire.

He has chosen not to do so.

What hoarding wealth does to a person

I saw a post online some time ago that pointed out the discrepancy in the way that we regard “hoarders”—like those we see on reality TV shows with houses full of newspapers or cheap collectibles—versus the way that we regard those who hoard wealth, natural resources, or power. The first group are generally regarded as mentally ill and in need of an intervention; the second are glorified and treated as if they hold some special genius to have accumulated SO. MUCH. STUFF.

But what’s the difference between them really? Is it not a form of mental illness that causes a person to cling to billions and trillions in their portfolios, while millions of their fellow humans suffer and starve around them? Is it not mental illness to have more money than you can possibly spend in multiple lifetimes, while children go hungry and die of preventable diseases?

After seeing it put so plainly, I have grown increasingly convinced that accumulating wealth in excess does something sinister to a person. Jesus and his disciples warned about it, of course, but many modern readers like to shrug off those parts of the Bible as metaphorical rather than literal.

We have been reading through the Gospel of Mark with our Sunday Bible study group, and we happened to be in chapter 10 the same week that the news about Musk was published. We read the story of the rich man who was seeking to “inherit eternal life,” but walked away grieving because Jesus told him to sell all that he had and give it to the poor.

An interesting detail in verse 21 is that before Jesus told the man that he needed to sell everything and give to the poor, he looked at him and loved him. I imagine Jesus’ voice softening before he delivered the words that he knew would bring shock and grief to this man who wished to be faithful. Jesus was not telling the man to give away his wealth out of hatred, anger, or disgust, but out of love.

Perhaps he was thinking about how “those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.” (1 Tim. 6:9)

Perhaps he was thinking about the miseries that were to come upon the rich (James 5:1-6) or how “the lover of money will not be satisfied with money, nor the lover of wealth with gain.” (Eccl. 5:10)

What we know for sure is that Jesus’ warning about riches was rooted in his love for this man. Giving up the wealth would have been the best choice for him, but he wasn’t able to do it. He could not serve both God and wealth (Matthew 6:24), so he chose wealth.

There is another way

The part of the story of Musk reaching this shocking new pinnacle of wealth that grieves me the most is not the corruption of this man who was born wealthy and has built his life around his own desires and ego (although that is also pretty sad). It has always been this way with “great” men throughout history, and we have scores of palaces, mansions, and ancient ruins that testify to that reality.

What really grieves me is the way that everyday people, many of whom hold to the Christian faith, glorify this excess.

I mourn for the kids who have had this gross inequality and injustice normalized. I grieve that one of the most Lex Luthor of all living men is being praised as a hero or role model for our children, rather than exposed as the supervillain that he truly is.

To be clear, I still believe that Elon Musk is a human being with inherent dignity, who is made in the image of God. I also believe, however, that like the Pharaohs and Nebuchadnezzars of Scripture, Musk has forgotten it about himself. He dishonors himself, God, and all of humanity by thinking that he is a god himself.

The wealthy do not deserve to be honored for their penchant for excessive hoarding. They suffer from an illness that is far more damaging to their neighbors than the illness that leads others to fill their homes full of trash.

May we never be guilty of bowing down to the golden statues or kissing the rings of pharaohs who build empires on the backs of others with less power.

Instead of showing honor to people amassing great wealth for themselves, building their towers (or rocket ships) to touch the heavens and declare themselves gods, let’s honor God through our solidarity with those struggling to survive.

There is another way.

“In an economy that frames us as endless competitors, we must be communities of co-conspirators and co-laborers. We must and can, by the power of the Holy Spirit, show the world that there is another way.”

-Malcolm Foley, The Anti-Greed Gospel

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Where so many readers have seen a story of faithfulness against the odds and a renewal of the temple worship after the exile, these stories carry difficult layers for me.

Almost two years after my first wrestling match with the xenophobia and cruelty of the Jerusalem leaders, especially in Ezra, I find it even more relevant today than when I first wrote it. So I would like to share an updated version of that post in light of the relentless assault on immigrants today as well as the buzz about the 250th anniversary of the United States.

In the book of Ezra we meet a group of people who have been displaced and have suffered much loss, but then are given the opportunity to return to their homeland and rebuild. It sounds like an inspiring story when you recap it that way. In some ways it is an inspiring story. However, the priest’s lament about polluted land, impurity, and critiquing intermarriage between the people of Judah and the people of the lands (Ezra 9:11-12) sounds especially disturbing given today’s political environment and rhetoric from the highest levels of power about “immigrants poisoning the blood of our country.”

While I recognize that the leaders in the story had an understandable concern about idolatry and the disregard of Israel’s law, the hyper-focus on marriages with foreigners as the core problem leaves me with questions. Given the common biblical theme of people choosing their own wisdom over God’s, could this be a case of a man doing what is right in his own eyes while actually acting unrighteously?

Comparing Ezra to the rest of Scripture

I greatly appreciated this article from Old Testament scholar Carmen Imes on this topic as she breaks down the events in Ezra-Nehemiah in contrast to the theme throughout the Hebrew Bible of welcoming and loving the stranger. She also explains how the leaders in this story went beyond the actual commands of the law in regard to marriages with non-Israelites and reviews multiple stories where God’s plan was furthered by some of these “mixed” marriages (most notably the marriage of Boaz to Moabite Ruth, the great-grandmother of King David). She also contrasts the attitudes of Ezra and Nehemiah with a contemporary prophet, Malachi. While Malachi also lamented the marriage of Israelite men to women who “serve foreign gods,” he prescribed for the men to be removed from the “tents of Jacob,” rather than punishing the foreign wives and their children for the men’s failure (Malachi 2:11-12).

In the NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible, the editors insert a note seeking to explain this action by Ezra, noting, “Though the actions of Ezra and Nehemiah may strike some readers as harsh, the measures taken were more than racial or cultural; they were felt necessary to preserve the spiritual heritage of Israel.”1

This defense rings hollow to me. While I can understand this in defense of the prohibition to get married in the first place, how does the divorce mandate line up with the full witness of Scripture? When else in Scripture does God command someone to divorce a spouse because they don’t share the same faith—or for any reason, for that matter?

In fact when Jesus was asked if a man could divorce his wife “for any cause,” he flatly tells the inquirers that God’s will was never for divorce, but that an allowance was given due to human failure (Matt. 19:1-10). He upholds the sanctity of marriage with divorce as an exception, not something to be taken lightly.2

It seems that in Jesus’ view, marriage should be honored and protected. Men should not mistreat their wives by casting them out in a society where their lives would be marked by difficulty and poverty due to the stigma of their divorced status. With this insight into the character and heart of God, it seems incongruent for there to be a command for a mass divorce. In fact, neither Ezra or Nehemiah mention that God or a prophet from God told them to do so. Instead, it seems that Ezra and the other leaders were acting on their own wisdom rather than God’s. They put their own spin on the law to make it fit what they were already predisposed to believe.3

It is also interesting to see the similarity in the story of Ezra’s divorce mandate plan alongside King Ahasuerus’s queen banishing plan in the book of Esther. When Ezra lamented the mixed marriages, another man (not identified as a prophet or as speaking a word from God) piped up with the idea for the mass divorce, which was readily accepted without any kind of discussion or debate (Ezra 10). Similarly, when King Ahasuerus was embarrassed by Vashti’s refusal to flaunt herself at his drunken party, another man nearby proposed that he should banish her immediately, and he also accepted this with no discussion or debate (Esther 1). Both of these pieces of advice, in a similar era of history in the biblical record, were rashly given, readily accepted, and then resulted in wives being cast out. This parallel reading of Ezra as a mirror of the (rather foolish and hasty) King Ahasuerus seems telling.

Another biblical story that has a theme of sending away a “wife” and child is in Genesis 16. After Abram impregnated Hagar, the foreign woman he and his wife enslaved, Sarai grew jealous and advocated for Abram to kick the pregnant Hagar out of their home. Abram complied and they sent Hagar away, but then something surprising happened. God showed up in the wilderness and spoke directly to Hagar. She named him “the God who sees me,” and he sent her back to Abram’s home with promises for her son’s future.

The God Who Sees

We don’t know what happened to the women and children who were sent away in Ezra 10 because the book ends abruptly after sharing the names of those who divorced their wives. We know that “all these married foreign women, and some of them had children by these women” (Ezra 10:44). We know that despite these drastic measures, just a few decades later Nehemiah was fighting this same battle — beating people up and pulling out their hair for marrying women from Ashdod, Ammon, and Moab in Nehemiah 13:23-27.4

It seems that banishing the foreign women didn’t save Israel from their issues after all.

While Ezra and Nehemiah clearly thought that they were doing the right thing by keeping out foreigners and preserving a “holy bloodline,” this wasn’t a universal belief among the faithful in Israel at the time. The prophet Isaiah spoke of Jerusalem as a light to all the nations (Isa. 42, Isa. 60) hundreds of years earlier. There are dozens of commands to welcome, aid, and even love the stranger throughout the law and prophets.

I don’t think that all of this means that Ezra and Nehemiah were evil people or that there is nothing to learn from reading these texts. I think that they saw their intentions as good, and in fact some of the actions that they took were good. Nehemiah’s reforms included restoring justice to those who had been cheated of their land, a return to honoring the Sabbath, and restoration of other holy feasts through the year. But his obsession with blood purity went beyond what the law asked him to do.

Better than Ezra

I see this story as a cautionary tale of legalism and xenophobia that we would do well to consider today.

Stories like this demonstrate why it is essential to read these ancient texts through the lens of God’s character and the overarching message of Scripture, rather than reading every narrative as an approval of the protagonists within it. Our theology matters.

This particular story ends in a bleak and confusing place, but I draw comfort from remembering God’s response when Abram did much the same. When Abram drove out Hagar to hide from his own sins, God saw Hagar and visited her in her grief.

We serve a God who sees those who are hurting, even when the people who claim to serve him are blinded by their own self-righteousness.

God saw when the ancient people of God messed up and tried to place the blame for their sins on those with less power.

God also sees today when world leaders scapegoat and dehumanize immigrants.

God sees when powerful men call their own flawed wisdom “God’s will” in order to hurt their neighbors. God sees when we are too busy to care.

I would urge us not to fall into the traps of nationalism, self-righteousness, and blaming “others” that we read about in Ezra-Nehemiah.

When we hear about America’s 250th anniversary with undertones of only certain ethnicities being “true Americans,” or when those who weren’t born here are treated as a threat to our freedom, I hope we will remember the failings of these men who thought they were righteous and noble in oppressing women and children. I hope we will not repeat their mistakes.

Let’s remember that we serve a God who desires compassion rather than sacrifice (Hosea 6:6, Matthew 9:13). We follow a Savior who sums up the whole law as love of God and neighbor (Matthew 22:37-38).

Let’s remember the conclusion to his famous parable of the good Samaritan, urging his followers to “go and do the same.”

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Friends a few years further ahead on the journey have shared that the 40s can be a time of becoming—worrying less about what others think and learning more about who we really are. This sounds lovely to me.

The Bible nerd in me also loves the significance of the number 40 in Scripture as a time of testing and waiting.

The rain fell on Noah’s ark for 40 days and 40 nights.

Moses spent 40 days and 40 nights on Mount Sinai communing with God to receive the law.

The people of Israel wandered the wilderness for 40 years.

Jesus fasted in the wilderness for 40 days before he began his ministry.

In Scripture 40 symbolizes an in-between place of learning and being stretched, and something new always lies on the other side of that liminal place. Perhaps our lives are similar. For 40 years we wander around with little clue as to what we are doing or which direction we are headed. By the time we are 40, though, our feet feel more firmly planted. Little dust-ups and inconveniences don’t feel quite as earthshattering. It’s easier to let things go.

This feels a bit like emerging from a wilderness of fasting and tests with the strength to face the real world.

Here I am, Lord. I’ve been through some tests and I’ve wandered the wilderness. Send me where you will.

Growing into myself means allowing my mind and heart to b r e a t h e without succumbing to the fear that someone might be offended by the breath. As I learn to breathe these deep, honest breaths, my mind is healing. The low thrum of anxiety that occupied so much of my younger years has grown quieter.

I have learned that peace sometimes means walking away from spaces and people that force you to shrink yourself to be accepted. Not every space is for me, and that’s ok. It turns out that the pain lessens when you let go of things that slice your fingers. There’s freedom in letting go of the need to fit in everywhere, and then you can finally find the places that actually fit you.

A few weeks ago I took part in a spiritual retreat where we took some time to make collages. We didn’t have any real instruction, but were given the freedom to make our collages in whatever way we liked. I did not have a clear plan with the images and phrases that I cut out from the selected catalogs; I simply chose what appealed to me. However, as the collage began to take shape a clear message stood out to me from the final image:

Allow yourself to grow. Release the chains of people pleasing and fear, and live into the life that sets your heart on fire.

The retreat was focused on the teachings and faith formation practices of Howard Thurman, and my collage made me think of one of his quotes that was shared.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive.”

-Howard Thurman

I have spent many years of my life thinking that I needed to figure out what the world needs and how I can personally meet that need. While not necessarily coming from a bad place, there is some arrogance in that mindset. Time and experience have humbled me enough to realize that I am not God’s gift sent here to “save the world” with my talents. But I firmly believe that each of us hold gifts that can light up the spaces around us when we fully come alive.

So, here’s to coming alive and living that life to the full for another 40+ years!

Thank you, friends, for sharing a piece of that life with me.

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In the year of Jubilee debts were forgiven, enslaved people were freed, the land rested, and property was returned to its ancestral roots. Bible scholars tell us that there is no evidence that Israel ever fully observed a Jubilee,1 but isn’t the idea lovely? What a beautiful picture of freedom and justice for all.

Today in the United States, we remember a different freedom story on Juneteenth.

Juneteenth celebrates the day that all were made free in America, when the burden of slavery was broken on June 19, 1865.2 We still celebrate Juneteenth 159 years later, but similar to the way that the biblical Jubilee was never celebrated fully, we cannot celebrate fully now either. Because we are not all fully free.

This Juneteenth week began with a cage fight on the White House lawn. Beyond the absurdity of that scene alone, one of the fighters ended his victory by grabbing a mic and calling former First Lady Michelle Obama a man, a racist and sexist slur that has been used ad nauseum for well over a decade.3

The same day, a toddler was shot and killed in Mississippi after police officers fired on a car in response to a shoplifting allegation.4 As with so many other tragic stories before, we are told not to be upset about this horror: we are told that we must wait for the full story, give the police the benefit of the doubt, the car was headed toward them and they feared for their lives.

But there is no “rest of the story” that justifies a baby being shot by police.

There is no “common sense” in a trained law enforcement officer shooting a moving car in a Walmart parking lot and thinking that was a safe and good idea, especially when they are responding to an allegation of shoplifting. A child’s life for a pack of diapers?

We are living in a society that refuses to hear the phrase, “Black Lives Matter,” but continues to demonstrate on a daily basis why it must be said.

Black lives matter.

Little black boys deserve to grow up.

Black mothers deserve to go to the store without being shot at by police.

Black women deserve to be treated with dignity, rather than being called slurs on the White House lawn.

And this Juneteenth week in the year of our Lord 2026, we cannot equivocate on this.

When we hear these stories that are especially heartbreaking and devastating to the Black community, there is often a tendency among white people to start looking for a reason for the tragedy. It is uncomfortable to admit that the system is unjust, so some try to find a tidy answer that places the blame on the person suffering the injustice. Like Job’s (so-called) friends, we tend to blame and shame those who weep in the ashes of a ruined life.5

We must stop doing this.

Sometimes there are no words to make a situation ok. Sometimes we do not have a tidy answer. This week is one of those times. And in the mess and the ruin and the devastation, perhaps we should do what Job’s friends failed to do. Perhaps we should sit in the ashes and weep with our neighbors.

Lord, have mercy.

Jesus, be near.

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This is part three of three in a series on the impact of immigration enforcement, which grew out of a paper that I submitted for a news writing class this spring. Part One and Part Two are available to read now.

One of my favorite scenes in the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy is near the beginning. Gandalf has just told Frodo the horrifying backstory of his inherited magical ring. Frodo is beginning to understand that the ring is a danger to his home and anyone near it.

He realizes that the ring must be taken far away, but he also knows that the person who carries it will be in grave danger. There are so many things that Frodo could do at that moment. It would be easy to shrug off any responsibility and decide that this is too big of a problem for a little guy like him. Instead he looks up at Gandalf with eyes full of fear and a heart full of courage, and asks, “What must I do?”

I think about that scene often when I hear stories like the ones we have covered in the last few weeks. People are living in fear, and for good reason. Our government is involved in corruption and injustice, and those involved are growing wealthy off of their schemes. These problems are big. They feel impossible to solve.

We could easily join the ranks of the many who look away, make excuses, or freeze under the weight of it all. Or we can be like Frodo, knowing that there are hard things ahead of us but accepting that we must take some responsibility for the collective good.

We can ask, “What must I do?”

Unlike Frodo, the answer probably does not involve a deadly journey. However, it’s also unlikely that the answer is as straightforward as the one that Frodo received. As much as we would like for there to be a wise council who tells us what to do and where to go to do it, we will need to do some of our own work to find our role.

I certainly don’t have an easy answer for you (or even for myself), but I would like to share some ideas and resources. Some may apply to you and some may not, but I hope that you can find something that resonates.

I would also love to hear more ideas in the comments if there is anything that you would like to add.

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Listen well

The first thing that many of us must do is pay attention. We don’t have to know the details of every breaking news story or respond immediately to every crisis. But if we keep a baseline level of awareness about the state of our communities, we are better able to both respond and educate others.

There are many organizations currently doing great reporting and storytelling work about the ways that our broken immigration system continually breaks people, and there are good sources across the spectrum of political or religious ideologies.

Some of the organizations that I have found helpful in tracking immigration news over the last five years or so are the American Immigration Council, the National Immigration Forum, and Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC). A couple of Substacks that are helpful in keeping up-to-date with immigration news are Austin Kocher and Neighbor Notes. Some faith-based organizations that work both at the U.S.-Mexico border and with immigrant communities across the U.S. include Abara, Border Perspective, and FaithWorks. We Choose Welcome does a great job of synthesizing important information on social media and providing action prompts.

Plugging into resources like these is a great start, but online resources cannot replace embodied relationships. One of the best ways to stay informed and truly make a difference is to make local or regional connections with those most affected by these issues. Knowledge holds little significance without proximity or relationship to those living this reality. Find those doing the work in your hometown, county, or state, and follow their lead.

Speak the truth

In the Academy 4 mentoring program that my husband and I have participated in for the last several years, we teach our 4th graders that listening is something that we do with our whole bodies. Sometimes I think adults need that reminder too.

It’s not enough to hear the words that someone is telling us, or even to believe what they say. When someone tells us that they are being hurt, that information requires a response.

After the 2020 murder of George Floyd we heard a lot about social justice and it felt like change was finally on the horizon. People were “listening and learning.” There was a wave of webinars, books, and more for people to dig into U.S. history and learn how to strive for a more equitable world.

However, many of us never got past this “listening and learning” stage. We changed our minds about some things and tried to be less racist (in theory), while still not rearranging anything about our personal lives. We cannot keep doing this.

We should absolutely listen, and we should absolutely learn. We should also take a hint from Maya Angelou and when we know better, actually do better.

One of the simplest—but also one of the most challenging—ways to help when facing wide-scale injustice is to talk about it with the people in our lives.

We must go beyond silently disapproving and talk with our family, friends, or bookclub. Share articles and resources on social media. Call elected officials. Join a committee and discuss specific needs in our neighborhoods, schools, or churches.

Act in Solidarity

Once we have spent some time learning and have found our people, we need to put what we have learned into action. It may feel like the powers are too big for us to fight, but we can make a difference when we act in solidarity with one another. Just look at the stories of the small communities that have banded together to keep ICE warehouses out of their towns. Remember how the swell of public pressure helped secure the releases of the unjustly detained Kilmar Abrego Garcia and Liam Conejo Ramos.

We can also make decisions in our daily lives to withhold support from those who carry out these human rights abuses.

• We can check our 401ks or other investments for stocks of companies that support dehumanizing policies like GEO Group or CoreCivic.

• We can keep an eye out for these ICE warehouses being built or purchased near us, and join the protests or city council meetings to voice our dissent.

• We can donate to the commissary accounts of families detained at Dilley, so they can buy clean water or food.

• We can financially support or volunteer with the organizations that we identified in the first step.

• We can have meaningful but hard conversations with the people that we love.

The Long Haul

Finally, it’s important to recognize that our problems go beyond a single person or party, and therefore solutions have to go beyond an administration change. Yes, Trump has implemented some terribly inhumane policies, but we also saw wide-scale immigration detention and deportation under Biden and Obama. We saw a massive ramp up in immigration enforcement under Bush Jr. and widening criminalization of immigration offenses under Clinton.

The roots of greed that infiltrate both our immigration and detention (prison) systems run deep and the racism and anti-immigrant sentiments that fuel these policies run even deeper.

Lady Galadriel tells Frodo in The Fellowship of the Ring that “the evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether Sauron himself stands or falls,” and we are in a similar situation now. We must be committed to the long haul work that will continue beyond this presidential administration or Congress.

We started this short series with a reflection on Matthew 25 and the way we respond to the injustices happening to people that society forgets or pushes aside is the way that we treat Jesus himself. This truth gives me courage: the solidarity that we embody with our dispossessed neighbors is the solidarity that we have with the Christ who promises a future of justice and peace. We are not alone in the fight.

I’m sure there is much more to be said, but I will end with an encouragement for us to take heart and not give up.

Let’s keep listening well, speaking the truth, and acting in solidarity with those with “their backs against the wall,” until justice truly rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.

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This is part two of three in a series on the impact of immigration enforcement, which grew out of a paper that I submitted for a news writing class this spring. You can read Part One here.

Last week we reflected on the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25, and considered Jesus’ teaching that what we do (or don’t do) for those that society sees as the least, we do to him. We considered the environment of fear and intimidation being created by our immigration enforcement in the United States, and considered that our response now says much about how we would have responded during historic human and civil rights movements. Today we will dig deeper into how ICE treats immigrants after they are detained.

Clearly designed for punishment

During my March interview with Kristin Etter, Director of Policy and Legal Services at the Texas Immigration Law Council (TXILC), she described her visits with individuals in detention centers across Texas.

“They are clearly designed to be punishment,” Etter says of these centers. “Most of the people there have never been accused of a crime, have never been convicted of a crime, and yet they are being held in these detention camps that are much harsher than some of the jails and prisons that we use to house convicted criminals, including convicted felons.”

Despite a narrative from the federal government about ICE enforcement being tied to the safety of Americans, most ICE enforcement in the last sixteen months has had very little to do with preventing crimes or apprehending those who commit them. According to a report from the nonpartisan research warehouse Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC) on the current low number of crimes cited in deportation orders this spring, “These results add to the growing body of evidence that despite the current Trump administration’s rhetoric about targeting the ‘worst of the worst,’ its deportation enforcement is increasingly focused on noncitizens without criminal records.”1

TRAC’s immigration detention quick facts page shows 60,311 people detained by ICE and CBP as of April 4, 2026.2

70.8% of those detained had no criminal convictions. Furthermore, of the small percentage who had criminal convictions, many were minor offenses such as traffic violations.3

Immigration data researcher Austin Kocher reported in January that 92% of ICE detention growth in fiscal year 2026 (which began October 1, 2025) is due to arrests of immigrants without criminal convictions.4 The reason why I share this figure from January is that the government is becoming increasingly less transparent with the data. Kocher noted in his weekly immigration update that as of May 22, 2026 current detention data is impossible to obtain.

“ICE’s biweekly detention data is now over a month old, which means as of right now, the American public does not know how many people are sitting in ICE detention,” Kocher wrote.5

The effects of this large-scale incarceration are devastating to communities across the country. Jesús Romero of Educational and Legal Immigration Ministries (ELIM), wrote for the FaithWorks blog in May that “more than 100,000 children have been separated from their parents under the current administration, and nearly three-quarters of them are likely U.S. citizens.”6

These children are left behind with family or friends as their parents are held in detention for an indeterminate amount of time. This impacts twenty times more children than the “Zero Tolerance Policy” that separated about 5,500 children from their families at the U.S.-Mexico border during the first Trump administration.

Who profits?

When the number of criminal convictions is so low it is hard to see a motive for this push for greater incarceration of immigrants, until you begin to follow the money.

Project Salt Box, a collaboration between several independent journalists, tracks data about the warehouses that ICE has been purchasing and/or building for immigration detention centers. Their website shows warehouse locations and how much our government paid for them, and the data indicates that the prices paid for these facilities in some cases are unusually high.

For example, a facility purchased by ICE in Flowery Branch, Georgia was last valued in 2024 at $400,000. In February 2026 ICE paid $68 million for the property.7 That’s a 16,900% markup.

Another facility in Social Circle, Georgia was valued at $29.79 million in 2025 but then purchased by ICE for $129 million in February 2026.8

The large flow of money for immigration detention goes beyond these initial purchase transactions. The private companies that contract with the federal government to operate these detention centers are bringing in millions of dollars per day. NPR reported in March that detention costs “$125 or more per person per day,” compared to less than $10 per day for detention alternatives.9

60,311 detainees being held at that average rate means taxpayers are paying an estimated $7.5 million per day to keep immigrants locked up in this country, and we know from the data above that most of those individuals have not been convicted of any crimes.

For-profit detention is a highly profitable business that enriches those with the most power at the expense of those with the least.

Inhumane Conditions

Even more concerning than the hefty cost to taxpayers is the human impact of these centers. ProPublica reported in March 2026 that despite their huge profits, one of the primary detention contractors, GEO Group, is currently suing the state of Washington, seeking to pay detainees only $1 per day for their labor in the centers, despite the state’s assertion that it was against state law to do so.10

GEO Group’s facility in Tacoma is not alone in this practice: tens of thousands of detainees across the country work for $1 per day as their only option to earn money while held in detention. Public Citizen reported in May that there are currently court cases in five states challenging this practice.11

The executive chairman of GEO Group made $11.3 million in 2025—$5,400 per hour—while his company skimped on hiring full time staff and instead paid immigrant detainees $1 per day for cooking and cleaning in their facilities. There have also been multiple reports from detainees that they were never paid for their labor at all.12

The concerns with immigrant detention centers do not end with unjust labor practices and sketchy finances. At the time of this writing, detainees at the Delaney Hall in New Jersey (owned by GEO Group) have been protesting conditions at the detention center for over a week, allegedly through labor and hunger strikes. Detainees and their families have raised alarms for months about inhumane conditions in the facility, including live worms in their food, medical neglect, and crowded quarters with no air conditioning.13

88.3% of those at Delaney Hall have no criminal convictions. Also, according to the latest available data, 84.2% of the detainees there did not even have a final order of removal, which means that they are not even eligible to be deported at this time.14

Similar reports of inhumane conditions have come from Texas. Etter said that the circumstances she witnessed firsthand at Dilley Detention Center—a family detention center that also holds children—were “very bleak,” including limited access to medical care, no access to education for the children, and inedible food.

She said that the water is unsanitary and makes people sick; that it smells like chlorine and tastes like dirt. Detainees are allowed to go to the commissary once a week to purchase food or water, which may be the only opportunity to obtain clean drinking water.

Clients also reported to Etter that they were charged $15 for a box of cereal and $29 for water at the commissary.

“People are trying to make money off of immigrants every step of the way,” Etter said. “This is a money-making scheme. It’s also a campaign to make people self-deport or not come here.”

And it’s happening in our own backyards.

This is part two in a three part series on immigration enforcement in the United States. Subscribe now so you don’t miss next week’s conclusion, where we will synthesize what was covered in the last two weeks, and then consider what we can do to engage our concerns.

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This post is adapted from a story that I wrote for my News Writing class this spring. I learned so much from the people that I interviewed, and I wanted to share these stories with more than just my professor, so this is Part One of a three part story series on immigration enforcement in North Texas.

In Jesus’ famous parable of the sheep and goats in Matthew 25, he details the way that his true followers could be spotted. “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

The confused hearers of this proclamation in the parable were surprised because they did not remember doing these things for Jesus. So he clarified, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

There is a well-known idea attributed to Karl Barth, advising theologians and preachers to do theology with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. In other words, we should weigh our approach to the events around us with the message of the Bible, and we should also read the Bible with an eye toward what it says to our present world.

I thought about this idea a lot as I conducted the interviews and wrote the news story below this spring. I heard about the fear, intimidation, and corruption that is harming people in our communities right now, while many choose to look the other way.

That’s not my problem. Those aren’t my people. It has nothing to do with me.

But if we take the words of Jesus seriously, it is our problem. These are our people, and it has everything to do with us. The way that we respond to the injustices happening to people that society forgets or pushes aside is the way that we treat Jesus himself.

What we do to them, we do to him. So let’s not look away.

Let’s listen and respond as if it were our own families telling us what was happening. Because it is.

Immigration enforcement impacts North Texans despite their legal status

While clashes between ICE agents and communities in other states have received more media coverage in recent months, both immigration enforcement and policy changes have had significant impact in Texas. We don’t always hear these stories because they lack dramatic video footage, but the impact on the families living these stories is no less dramatic than the clips coming from other parts of the country.

Kristin Etter, Director of Policy and Legal Services at the Texas Immigration Law Council (TXILC), said in an interview in March that immigration arrests are more common but quieter in Texas due to the state’s history of cooperation with federal immigration agencies.

“25% of all immigration arrests that happen in the U.S. happen in Texas,” Etter said.

She explained that enforcement is not limited to those who entered the country without authorization. Etter has heard from dairy farmers and leadership at meat-packing plants and other industries that rely heavily on immigrant labor, whose employees have been detained on their way to work. Many of those workers had legal protections such as Temporary Protected Status or asylum claims, but executive actions and court decisions have led to losses of immigration status, which Etter refers to as becoming “de-documented.”

The fear of arrest is spreading among many immigrant communities, regardless of the manner in which they entered the U.S. Refugees—who enter the country with documentation through the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, and have a legal right to work upon arrival—are also feeling the pressure.

Stephanie Giddens, Executive Director and Founder of Vickery Trading Company in Dallas, hires refugee women at her nonprofit social enterprise that combines job skills training with holistic support.

Giddens has seen rapid changes to immigration policy bring fear and uncertainty to the women in her community. A pause on green card processing has put newly-arrived refugees in a precarious legal status.

She said that refugees have already gone through so much trauma in order to get here, and “even the thought of, will I be forced to go back to that—or even a third country that is also not my home—that is re-traumatizing to them.”

Refugees in Fort Worth report similar fears, according to citizenship teacher Jim Sinclair. As a volunteer with World Relief who helps prepare immigrant students for U.S. citizenship exams, Sinclair has heard concerns about immigration enforcement from both current and former students.

Sinclair said that many refugees are “keeping a low profile,” cautious about leaving home out of fear that they will be targeted based on their ethnicity.

One of Sinclair’s students completed all of her paperwork and preparation for the citizenship test, but chose not to complete the final step of taking the test.

“Filing paperwork puts you on their radar,” Sinclair explained.

He said that even though refugees have been thoroughly vetted before coming to the United States and have “done everything right,” current enforcement brings fear and uncertainty.

According to a March 5 press release from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), hundreds of thousands of “criminal illegal aliens” were arrested or deported under the leadership of DHS Secretary Kristi Noem, “including gang members, murderers, rapists, kidnappers, and drug traffickers.”

The Trump Administration claims more arrests and detentions are necessary due to the unlawful presence of dangerous criminals. However, detailed breakdowns of the criminal history of those being arrested are not readily available on government websites.

While the official ICE statistics page says that it will provide updates quarterly, the data on the page has not been updated since January 2025.

A Texas Tribune analysis of data from the Deportation Data Project website, which uses information obtained through Freedom of Information Act lawsuits, found that ICE arrested a smaller percentage of immigrants with criminal convictions in Texas during the first six months of President Trump’s term than before. Arrests of those with criminal convictions dropped from 58% of arrests under Biden to 42% under Trump.

State law has also had an effect on immigrant arrests and detention. Etter said that Texas Senate Bill 8 (SB8), which went into effect in January 2026, has led to state employees operating as ICE agents. The law requires most counties to enter into one of three types of 287(g) agreements that compel collaboration between local law enforcement and federal immigration officials. The Texas 287(g) Map on TXILC’s website shows the level of county participation in ICE cooperation.

“You are redesignating law enforcement officers—taking them away from their duties that they have to protect the public and to keep our communities safe—and you’re telling them, no, you need to go after, essentially, non-criminal immigrants,” Etter said.

These stories from Etter, Giddens, and Sinclair are just a few among thousands occurring all across the United States. However, it is easy in states like Texas for people to grow complacent about ICE enforcement that happens quietly under the radar. I heard Etter speak at a FaithWorks conference in February about the importance of community awareness about ICE. She said that many people have asked her what they should do if ICE comes to their city, like they see on the news in Minneapolis. Her chilling answer to that question—particularly for those of us who live in Texas—is that these things are already happening; they just aren’t making the news.

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According to notes in the Jewish Study Bible, the name of the book refers to the teacher/preacher identified in the very first verse – Koheleth in Hebrew and Ecclesiastes in Greek.1 It is one of five biblical books that are read on religious occasions throughout the Jewish liturgical year, and is traditionally read during the festival of Sukkot, “originally celebrating the completion of the fall harvest and later also of the yearly cycle of reading the Torah.”2

The book is unique within the biblical canon and there has even been debate in rabbinic circles as to whether it truly belongs.3 It’s easy to see why these debates have occurred, since some of the messaging of the book feels like a contradiction of other parts of Scripture. Ecclesiastes has a very different tone from the rest of the wisdom books.

For example Ecclesiastes 7:16 says, “Do not be too righteous, and do not act too wise; why should you destroy yourself?”

It’s hard to imagine the writers of the Torah or the prophets feeling comfortable with an admonition to not be too righteous. The footnotes in the NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible explain that this was unusual not just for the Hebrew Bible, but for other ancient wisdom literature as well.

“This attitude is in contrast with much of the advice of the classic wisdom teaching of the ancient world, which taught precisely that prudence and piety does protect us from harm…It would be a mistake, however, to take Ecclesiastes simply as a cynical piece of antiwisdom. The exhortations here stem from a conviction that all persons are sinful (vv. 22,29) and that all attempts to impress God with personal piety fail. Also, Ecclesiastes drives the reader to a more profound understanding of the fear of God than that reflected in the external piety of the Egyptian admonition.”4

The contrast between Ecclesiastes and the other wisdom writings is perhaps one of its strengths. When read alongside the other wisdom books in the Bible, it offers helpful nuance. Ecclesiastes helps temper some of the parts of Proverbs that can lean toward prosperity gospel interpretations. It also helps illuminate why Job’s friends were wrong in their accusations of him.

“Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful, but time and chance happen to them all.” (Eccl. 9:11)

Trying to catch the wind

Ecclesiastes also helps set the basis for Paul’s argument in Romans 3:10 that “there is no one righteous, not even one.” (see Ecclesiastes 7:20 - “Indeed, there is no one on earth who is righteous, no one who does what is right and never sins.”)

As noted in the NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible (see passage above), Ecclesiastes helps us to recognize the shortcomings of our own understanding of wisdom and piety.

“I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.” (Eccl. 1:14)

The phrase, “chasing after the wind,” is found in Ecclesiastes nine times. In the King James Version, it is translated, “vexation of spirit,” and multiple other translations render it as variations of trying to catch or grasp the wind. What an evocative way to capture a universal feeling about searching for the meaning of life!

So many things are deemed “meaningless” according to Ecclesiastes’ teacher – the death of animals and people are the same, and a general sense of hopelessness pervades the text. Verses like 9:10 appear to see no life after death at all, because “where you are going there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.”

The teacher’s worldview is bleak, with no hope of life after death or an accounting for the injustices of this life. This worldview makes me uncomfortable and feels unChristian with its lack of hope and its ambivalent view of lifestyle choices. But I think that feeling stems from an underestimation of the text. Ecclesiastes is a deeply honest and human book that doesn’t mince words about the harsh realities of life. It adeptly illustrates how human righteousness is an insufficient antidote for the evil in the world, and it instills the reader with a longing for another, better world. It is a great setup for the beauty of Jesus’s gospel of the kingdom.

The book concludes in chapter 12:

“The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments, for that is the whole duty of everyone. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.” (Eccl. 12:12-14)

Even though the teacher sees everything as meaningless and even the pursuit of wisdom and righteousness as “chasing after the wind,” he still concludes that the best thing to do is to follow God. He does not abandon goodness to devolve into anarchy and debauchery since “everything is meaningless.” Rather, he points to a source of hope even when he doesn’t truly understand that hope himself.

This reminds me of another teacher, the unnamed writer of Hebrews, who said “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect. Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Heb. 11:39 - 12:3)

This read through Ecclesiastes has led me to view it not so much as a cynical book, but rather a compassionate book for those who have lived righteously but continue to be kicked around by life. Suffering is not proof of your failings, but “time and chance happen to us all.”

Even when you “fear God, and keep his commandments,” you may still get that life-altering diagnosis, that heartbreaking phone call, or a series of hope-crushing roadblocks. Sometimes we need to hear this reminder in order to hold onto our identities as the children of God.

Sometimes we need to remember that the bad things that happen to us are not God’s punishment but the unfair realities of living in a harmed and harmful world. God is not decreeing our punishment from a lofty throne, but drawing near to our broken hearts and weeping with us. He sees.

And unlike “the Teacher” of Ecclesiastes, we have the added benefit of the teachings of Jesus to offer a clearer hope for our future. A hope not up to chance, but resting in the just and loving reign of God’s kingdom.

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The film challenges the audience to consider what it means to stick to your principles, even under threat of persecution or death. Through the arguments about obeying his summons to join the army (which also required an oath of allegiance to Hitler) between the protagonist, Franz, and his family, neighbors, and even spiritual leaders, you can feel his internal struggle. To disobey was considered treason, bearing the legal penalty of death.

It sounds noble and right to die rather than participate in injustice, but Franz also had to consider the impacts of his choice on his family. It’s easier to sacrifice yourself, but do you also make that choice for others? If your actions mean that your wife, widowed mother, and young children will suffer, do you still do it? Are there other options that could both maintain your integrity and protect your family?

We often assume that we know how we would respond in a situation like this, but I am certain that it feels far more complicated in reality. What would we do in facing a decision like this?

I think the only honest answer is that if we want to know what we would do in the face of another Holocaust or another Civil Rights Movement, we need to take a look at what we are already doing right now. If we are not living with integrity and making sacrifices even in the small things, it’s not likely that we would behave differently when the stakes are considerably higher.

Rethinking “heroes”

Matt and I recently finished reading Ruth, one of my favorite books in the Bible. I always find it odd how people romanticize the story, though, framing Ruth like a Disney princess and Boaz in the role of Prince Charming. This is a great example of the way that our modern culture “Disneyfies” the Bible.1 We love to have clear heroes and villains and—by all means—we MUST have a white knight on a charger swooping in to save the damsel in distress.

But is this what Boaz was doing? Was he a love-struck young prince charging in to save his lady fair? Or was he just faithfully doing the right thing in the circumstances that he was given?

Let’s take a look at the text. The first time that Ruth and Boaz meet in the story is when Ruth is gleaning in his barley field “after the reapers.” This is because Boaz was obedient to the law’s command to not reap your harvest crop all the way to the edge of the field, but to “leave them for the needy and the stranger.”2

He continued showing generosity to the widowed Ruth, recognizing her virtue and her devotion to her mother-in-law, who was also widowed. He remembered the numerous commands to show generosity and mercy to the “widow, the fatherless, the poor, and the stranger” (Ruth matched at least three of these categories, and quite possibly all four). The story ends with Boaz being faithful to his responsibility as a kinsman-redeemer for Ruth and Naomi, restoring them to family and community.

At no point in the story does Boaz speak as a man passionately in love or smitten by Ruth’s beauty. Instead, he is repeatedly shown behaving faithfully and with kindness.

Boaz’s ethics were informed both by the letter of the law and the spirit of the law, much like Ruth’s were toward Naomi. The love theme in this book is kindness rooted in faithfulness, using the Hebrew word khesed that is often translated to English as goodness, kindness, or faithfulness, and that the BibleProject translates as “loyal love.”3 Not a romantic feeling, but an ongoing action that springs forth out of a generous and kind spirit.

Ruth was generous and kind to Naomi because of her strong character and faithfulness. Boaz in turn was generous and kind to Ruth (and by extension to Naomi) because of his character and faithfulness. These were not dramatic romantic gestures, but faithful actions that emerged from the everyday choices of their lives.

We do not become heroes spontaneously when we are placed in extraordinary circumstances. However, we can respond heroically when we have directed our everyday lives toward a faithfulness that shapes our character.

Do we need a hero?

We tend to look for a romantic hero to save the day when we see injustices occurring, but that’s typically not how it works. Resistance to injustice is not usually the work of a single hero doing a bold and novel thing, but instead it is the result of many people living quiet, hidden lives of faithfulness.

During the Birmingham Bus Boycott in 1955-1956, it took a lot more than Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat to make a difference. It took the actions of thousands of people standing together for months. Many of them probably wondered if it was worth it as they sacrificed their time and their tired, sore feet to the cause. Most of their names are not recorded in a history book, but they were all part of the victory when the buses were finally integrated.

We don’t always know the impact of our actions. Sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t yield any visible results and sometimes the results take a considerable amount of time. But we do the right thing anyway.

This is what it means to be faithful.

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Thurman writes about how this idea of God caring deeply about us as individuals is a foundational truth that is necessary to combat the fear that can crush the spirits of those facing oppression.

“The awareness of being a child of God tends to stabilize the ego and results in a new courage, fearlessness, and power. I have seen it happen again and again.”2

He further explains, “This established for them the ground of personal dignity, so that a profound sense of personal worth could absorb the fear reaction.”3

I thought about this story as my husband and I recently read through the book of Job. When his friends berated him endlessly with accusations that sin had led to his suffering, Job never submitted himself to their lies. He never lost sight of his own dignity.

I am struck by the power of that dignity. If I were in Job’s shoes, surrounded by my best friends telling me that I was a horrific sinner, I think I would be inclined to doubt myself even if the evidence didn’t line up. People pleasing can be a powerful force, but Job never caved. He knew his own worth, he knew his own character, and he refused to agree with those who impugned it.

Job knew that he was God’s child, and it gave him strength to endure a character assassination compounded by terrible grief and loss.

I love that in the Tanakh version of Scripture, the book of Job is followed almost immediately by the book of Ruth. In this story Naomi lost her home, her husband, and her sons. She felt abandoned by God, but by the end of the story she, too, knew the truth that she was a child of God and had not been forgotten.

As the book draws to a close with the birth of a beloved son, the women of the town surround Naomi with rejoicing where there was once weeping.

“The women said to Naomi: “Praise be to the Lord, who this day has not left you without a guardian-redeemer. May he become famous throughout Israel! He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age. For your daughter-in-law, who loves you and who is better to you than seven sons, has given him birth.” (Ruth 4:14-15, NIV)

Dear reader, if you have not heard this recently, I would like to remind you that you are God’s child. You are beloved and you belong. I hope you believe that truth, and that it brings transformation and flourishing to your life.

And if there are people around you who are a bit like Job’s friends, I hope you will be strengthened by the vindication of Job and Naomi and the empowering words of wise thinkers like Howard Thurman.

Those who dehumanize and slander are just people, no matter what high horses they sit on.

They have no authority to diminish your worth. As Thurman said, “A man is a man, no more, no less. The awareness of this fact marks the supreme moment of human dignity.”4

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Instead, they were “like a thornbush brandished by the hand of a drunkard (Proverbs 26:9).”

Their self-righteousness overpowered any wisdom they had to share.

What exactly was wrong with their counsel? Many of the things that the friends said to Job were not necessarily untrue. By themselves and in certain contexts, they would be considered very wise. I would imagine if you put some of these on a framed wall print or bumper sticker, well-meaning shoppers today would scoop them up at Hobby Lobby or their nearest Christian bookstore.

The words of Eliphaz in 4:8-11 echo sentiments found in many parts of Scripture, “As for me, I would seek God, and to God I would commit my cause. He does great things and unsearchable, marvelous things without number. He gives rain on the earth and sends waters on the fields; he sets on high those who are lowly, and those who mourn are lifted to safety.”2

The problem is that these men were more focused on being right and proving their own rightness, than in their mission to “help” their devastated friend. They heaped shame on a man who had just lost everything, and they continued kicking him while he was down—again and again.

The three friends took turns hurling their accusations at Job, convinced that his suffering was due to his own sin and determined to get him to confess. After each friend had their turn cutting Job down, he called them out for their cruelty.

“I could also talk as you do, if you were in my place; I could join words together against you and shake my head at you. I could encourage you with my mouth, and the solace of my lips would assuage your pain.” (Job 16:4-5)

While his friends were focused on their own perceived “rightness,” Job pointed out that they could have chosen a different tactic. They had the ability to encourage him and be a solace, but instead they chose to speak harshly and “shake their heads” at him.

After another few rounds of this exchange, Job was overcome with grief. He cried out, “How long will you torment me and break me in pieces with words? These ten times you have cast reproach upon me; are you not ashamed to wrong me?” (Job 19:2-3)

The clear anguish in his words brings tears to my eyes. “Are you not ashamed to wrong me?”

The story of Job and his friends is a cautionary tale that we would all do well to consider.

How often have we been like those friends, self-righteously sermonizing to those who grieve?

In contrast, consider how God responds to grief.

When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears

and rescues them from all their troubles.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

and saves the crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:17-18

-

The Lord builds up Jerusalem;

he gathers the outcasts of Israel.

He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

He determines the number of the stars;

he gives to all of them their names.

Psalm 147:2-4

-

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me

because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,

to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives

and release to the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

to provide for those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a garland instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

Isaiah 61:1-3

-

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Matthew 5:4

-

Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.

Romans 12:15

Jesus himself was no stranger to grief. When he approached the tomb of his friend Lazarus in the gospel of John, he knew that Lazarus would be restored back to life within moments. However, in the presence of the deep pain of those whom he loved, Jesus did not chide them for their grief.

He did not tell them that if only their faith had been stronger, their brother would still be alive.

Jesus wept.

In “Jesus and the Disinherited,” Howard Thurman writes about how Jesus was someone who understood those whose “backs are against the wall.” He shares one of his poems in the book,3 reflecting on how Jesus intimately knew the hardships of being poor and mistreated.

His days were numbered in great hostilities

Focused upon his kind, the sons of Israel.

There was no moment in all his years

When he was free.

-Howard Thurman

While Jesus drew near in compassion to the hurting and willingly shared in their grief, Job’s friends drew near only to feed their own pride.

Those friends sound like the people today who seek fame and power while preaching from their high places that empathy is a sin and some people deserve to suffer. They sound like those who insist that we cannot comfort those who are hurting without first preaching about what horrible sinners they must be.

They do not sound like Jesus.

The question before us as we read these texts is: Whose example will we follow?

Who will we sound like?

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But the older I get and the more I learn, the more I wrestle with the proverbs. They sometimes seem to contradict each other and some even seem to contradict Jesus. On one hand “riches do not benefit” (11:4), while on the other hand “the rich person’s wealth is his fortress” (10:15).

I particularly struggle with the way that Proverbs talks about wealth. Passages proclaiming that wisdom endows those who love her with wealth (8:21), great wealth is in the way of the righteous (15:6), and the diligent will be rich (10:4) make it easy to see where people get pulled toward prosperity gospels. These passages seem to clash with the words of Jesus, who blesses the poor (Luke 6:20) and warns the rich that the path to the kingdom will be difficult for them to enter (Luke 18:18-27).

We have women held up as superhumans who do it all (31)1, while women are also described as a source of misery to their husbands (21:9,19; 25:24) and a snare for foolish men (7). There are many warnings about sexual immorality and praise for finding an excellent wife, but tradition credits King Solomon as the original source of the proverbs — Solomon, a king with 700 wives and 300 concubines on record (1 Kings 11:3).

How do we square these passages—that have been used to prop up prosperity gospels and put unhealthy pressure on women—with the liberating, wealth-rejecting message of Jesus?

How do we respond to wisdom from an ancient king addressing other ancient kings, knowing the abuse and idolatry that was abundant among those in power in those days (and let’s face it, also today)?

In the past I think my answer would have been, “We don’t.” I would have shrugged it off as being above my pay grade and outside of my ability to understand.

These kinds of questions are still above my pay grade, and I still do not fully understand them. However, I have seen too much suffering in the world to shrug off questions that relate to people’s pain. So, like Jacob wrestling with the mysterious angel in the wilderness, I find myself staying in the fight: wrestling with the text and asking God to bless me (with some wisdom).

I told Matt the other day as we approached the end of Proverbs that I find some comfort in imagining the words directed to someone very young. The book begins with an admonition, “Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction, and do not ignore your mother’s teaching; for they are a graceful wreath for your head and necklaces for your neck.” (1:8-9) I think about how much of the advice that we give our own kids can sound simple and contradictory when it is removed from additional context.

It’s important to save your money. > It’s important to be generous and open-handed.

Working hard usually pays off in the workplace. > Being a workaholic damages you and your relationships.

Eat healthy food, and don’t ruin your dinner by filling up on snacks. > It’s ok to have a treat sometimes.

Study hard. > You have to rest to learn well.

When I remember that this is more in line with the purpose of Proverbs—as opposed to a rulebook or collection of divine promises—it’s easier to keep reading and seek out the real gems in the book.

The Jewish Study Bible’s introduction to Proverbs describes the book as one of the three “wisdom texts,” along with Job and Ecclesiastes, and explains the importance of reading these books “within the framework of an international Near Eastern wisdom tradition.”2 Similar compositions of wisdom sayings were also written in Egypt and Mesopotamia.

The editors write, “Proverbs is an anthology, and the sayings in it should be judged individually. Not all sayings will speak to every reader, but each reader should find many sayings and poems that pack insight and good sense into brief and memorable forms.”3

The NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible also notes similarities between Proverbs and other Near Eastern wisdom literature, while naming “the fundamental difference” that Proverbs identifies the fear of God as the ultimate motivation for wisdom.4

The complexity of what it means for Proverbs to be “true” is named in the NIV Study Bible, and they make a helpful comparison to several English proverbs like:

“Birds of a feather flock together” vs. “Opposites attract”

“Too many cooks spoil the broth” vs. “Two heads are better than one.”

“He who hesitates is lost.” vs. “Look before you leap.”5

Each of those English proverbs could be called true in specific situations, but not in all situations. That doesn’t make them untrue or even contradictory, so much as it makes them subject to discernment – wisdom literature that is meant to be contemplated and internalized rather than broadly applied to all situations.

According to the study bible editors, “A proverb by definition is a generalization. A generalization is considered useful when it is usually true.”6

The writers note that Proverbs is “a curriculum that is not meant as a self-study program. In some senses, it could be compared to a catechism, in that it provides a framework for introducing and remembering important lessons.”7

The style of the proverbs “assumes the presence of a teacher to accomplish its aims.”8

This clarifies how you can have proverbs that seem to contradict each other, and why some proverbs even point out that a proverb is no good to a foolish person (26:7 & 26:9 for example).

“Like a thornbush in a drunkard’s hand is a proverb in the mouth of a fool.”

Proverbs 26:9

I also find it meaningful to transition from Proverbs to Job as we continue reading the Tanakh version of the Hebrew Bible. Job helps us to see how even a righteous man, who should be thoroughly blessed according to Proverbs, can face adversity and may not ever understand why.

I love the way the BibleProject encourages the reading of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job together to get a fuller picture of wisdom. They present a thought exercise of the three books personified, with Proverbs as a brilliant young teacher, Ecclesiastes as a cynical middle-aged critic, and Job as a “weathered old man who has seen a lot in his day.”9

So while reading Proverbs this year has been more challenging for me than I expected it to be (perhaps I am becoming a bit of the middle-aged cynic myself), I have finished this reading feeling oddly blessed by the wrestling. It has reminded me of my own tendency to misunderstand wisdom, and the need to carefully examine my own understanding of the world.

“We must be careful to interpret proverbs without falling prey to any misconceptions about what they are or about what they seek to accomplish. They promote virtues, expose vices, and advance wisdom as a means of character development that is founded on the fear of the Lord.”

-NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible, 2016, p. 1026

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He is risen, indeed.

Millions of people made this joyous proclamation on Sunday, celebrating the day of Jesus’ resurrection so long ago. Our hearts were full of joy as we lifted our voices in song, “Christ the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!” We celebrated the miracle of resurrection and we reflected on the hope and promise of new life. We imagined the day when the fullness of Jesus’ kingdom will come, and when the world will no longer groan but be transformed into something new.

Later that evening, after a beautiful visit and dinner with dear friends, I sat down at home to unwind and opened social media for the first time that day. One of the first things that filled my screen were the words of our president, spewing hatred, blasphemy, and profanity alongside threats that Iran would be “living in hell” on Tuesday.

Christ is risen, but bombs and threats still fall.

Tuesday arrived, one of our kids’ birthdays. We were excited about plans to take him out to celebrate with sushi. A joyous day again, but again the news was bleak – this time even more frightening as the threats escalated.

“A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.”

Chilling, horrific words. Trump voters and Republican leadership remained silent, or worse, tried to excuse this threat of genocide.

Christ is risen, but bombs and threats still fall.

Thankfully by the end of the day these threats were walked back and a two week ceasefire was announced, but the horror of the threat hangs in the air. Immediately the whitewashing of the narrative kicked in as people said that this was just a negotiation tactic; this is how we “win.” Is this what “winning” looks like? It doesn’t feel like a win to me.

In our house we talk often about the mysterious “now and not yet” nature of the kingdom of heaven. We wrestle with what that means, and why the world is so dark even though Christ is risen, the long-promised light for all nations. We meditate on a kingdom that comes not through a tsunami wave or an avalanche, but as a seed and as yeast.

The waiting is so painful. Little pockets of yeast grow into nourishing bread and some seeds bloom into gardens of love and goodness, but the whole earth is still groaning and suffering much like it was 2,000 years ago.1

How long, O Lord? - We echo the cries and relive the anguish of the prophets, Job, and writer of Ecclesiastes.

Like Job, God’s timing is beyond my ability to understand. I do not have an answer for why there is so much suffering in the waiting. Unlike Job, I have the life and teachings of Jesus to anchor me to hope. The wait for his return feels so long and so hard, but I draw comfort that he knows, and he cares.

I believe in the joyful message of Easter – that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. I cling to that hope with all of my strength. And yet, it is also healthy and right to name the painfulness of the waiting. Before the joy of resurrection, there was so much pain and suffering. There were so many tears. We do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.2

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?3 - The dying words of a man of sorrows who was acquainted with grief.4 But also the words of a man who knew that the story wasn’t over yet.

Our story isn’t over yet, either. It will not always be this way.

The bombs and threats still fall, AND YET Christ is risen, indeed.

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“Half of the harm that is done in this world

Is due to people who want to feel important.

They don’t mean to do harm — but the harm does not interest them.

Or they do see it, or they justify it

Because they are absorbed in the endless struggle

To think well of themselves.”

-T.S. Eliot1

“They don’t mean to do harm — but the harm does not interest them.”

How often do these words describe us? From wars to mass incarceration to human trafficking to dozens of other horrors, we choose not to see harm that might make us question our own goodness.

In this semester’s ethics course, a fairly straightforward argument in the textbook caught my imagination. Terry L. Cooper writes in The Responsible Administrator that ethics is a dynamic and active process. When describing ethical dilemmas and different responses to them, Cooper lists the decision to ignore a problem as its own ethical decision alongside other options being considered.

“A decision to take no action is in fact a decision about personal responsibility,”2 Cooper writes.

This seems like an obvious statement, but often those with power (and we ourselves) tend to treat inaction as a morally neutral decision. We choose to ignore a problem when we fear the consequences of engaging it, while failing to consider the consequences of ignoring it.

The consequences of inaction

Not taking action is a decision with ethical considerations. Choosing to remain silent about injustice is a decision with ethical considerations.

The impact of this truth could not be clearer today. Within the last few months, multiple stories have emerged that highlight the consequences of such inaction.

Part of the documents released in December from the Epstein files revealed that a complaint related to child sexual abuse had been made to the FBI in 1996, but nothing was done. It was over a decade before Epstein faced charges in Florida for additional crimes, and in the meantime he harmed countless other children and women.

Numerous women have reported that the FBI never fully investigated their claims, despite many tips about Epstein’s criminal activity. His crimes spanned multiple presidential administrations, yet he never faced full accountability for the harm that he caused. The U.S. government chose, again and again, to look away. They are still choosing to look away, even as prominent figures in other countries are finally facing consequences for their connections to Epstein’s criminal network.

In a similar vein, the news broke this month that a second Duggar son, Joseph, from the popular TV show “19 Kids and Counting,” was arrested for sexual crimes against a child under 12. The charges feel sadly predictable after the conviction of Joseph’s older brother Josh in 2021. Josh was found guilty of possessing child sexual abuse material that was described by one of the agents in the investigation as some of the worst he had ever seen. Those crimes came to light years after initial news broke of the molestation of his sisters that had been brushed aside in his teens.

What would have gone differently for both of these Duggar brothers (and the children they abused) if their parents had taken Josh’s first offenses seriously when he was a teen? What if he had faced real consequences, rather than everyone with power choosing to look away?

What would have gone differently in the lives of dozens (if not hundreds) of young girls and women if Jeffrey Epstein had been thoroughly investigated 30 years ago rather than continuing to hobnob with the world’s elite for decades?

The ethical consequences of the inaction in each of these cases are as horrifying as one could imagine.

In addition to our society’s tendency to turn a blind eye to sexual abuse, we are currently seeing a disturbing trend of death and harm being done to immigrants who interact with federal agents. While there was a brief public swell of outrage following the murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, the violence at the hands of ICE has not stopped. 19-year old Royer Perez-Jimenez died in ICE custody on March 16, the 42nd death in custody since Trump took office. In comparison, 24 deaths were reported in ICE custody during the previous 4 years of Biden’s presidency.

Just days before Perez-Jimenez’s death, a 41-year old Afghan man also died in ICE custody in Texas — a reportedly healthy man who died within 24 hours of being detained. Regardless of their immigration status or anything that these men might have been accused of, it is a sobering thing to see so many lives cut short after coming in contact with federal officers. But much of the public, and many of our leaders, continue to look away.

Washing our hands

The common idiom that people are “washing their hands” of guilt when they choose to look away from injustice and “not get involved” finds its source in the Bible, part of a story that millions will read this week for Holy Week. It was clear that a grave injustice was in play during Jesus’ trial before Pontius Pilate. Jesus was clearly innocent of the charges brought against him, and Pilate knew it full well.

Pilate’s wife tried to warn him not to get caught up in the violence being done to an innocent man, but the political pressure was too great.

Now when Pilate saw that he was accomplishing nothing, but rather that a riot was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this Man’s blood; you yourselves shall see.” And all the people replied, “His blood shall be on us and on our children!” Then he released Barabbas for them; but after having Jesus flogged, he handed Him over to be crucified.

Matthew 27:24-26

How odd that Pilate thought that this public display would remove the responsibility of this injustice from his hands! What he would think, if he knew that thousands of years later people would still speak his name and recognize his complicity in the killing of Jesus?3

His attempts to distance himself from the violence that occurred within his area of responsibility failed. This governor, whose name would have likely been long forgotten in history otherwise, is now known throughout the world as a notorious sinner and a feckless leader.

Like Pilate, we can’t wash our hands and truly be clean from our responsibilities either.

We cannot turn away from the consequences of unjust systems that we participate in and benefit from.

We cannot hide the festering wounds that are eventually exposed when the bandaids of excuses and neglect are finally ripped off.

Inaction and silence are ethical choices. When will we open our eyes and see the harm done in this world? When will we truly follow in the steps of Jesus, who took the time to see and to care?

Real peace, the kind that binds wounds and heals souls, can’t coexist with deceit and greed. It isn’t handed down from an empire. It’s birthed from a fierce love that calls things as they are, that holds the wound up to the light and dares to say, “This cannot stay.”

-Kat Armas, Liturgies for Resisting Empire, pp. 172-173

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What an interesting little interjection that is! Right as the end of Lent draws near, a few days shy of Holy Week, we pause and reflect back to a story normally read in December.

Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city in Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the descendants of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming in, he said to her, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”

But she was very perplexed at this statement, and was pondering what kind of greeting this was. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and give birth to a son, and you shall name Him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end.”

But Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; for that reason also the holy Child will be called the Son of God. And behold, even your relative Elizabeth herself has conceived a son in her old age, and she who was called infertile is now in her sixth month. For nothing will be impossible with God.” And Mary said, “Behold, the Lord’s bond-servant; may it be done to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.

Luke 1:26-38

Nine months before Christmas, we ponder the angel’s visit to Mary. We remember the truth that before Jesus was a well-known teacher who was stirring up the religious and political elite with his controversial teachings, he was a baby. He came into the world like other babies: nurtured in his mother’s womb for the better part of a year, then making a grand entrance and taking his first breath.

This story is a beautiful reminder of the humanity of Jesus.

He was not only a divine king destined for a cosmic rescue mission, but also a human being who felt pain. He wept. He saw his mother watching his own tortuous death, and felt compassion for her, too.1

What a grand mystery and a profound gift.

The humanity of Jesus pulls me back to his story again and again. As I’ve grown older, met a wider variety of people, and seen some of the harder things that the world has to offer, I am sometimes questioned about why I hold onto faith. There is so much pain and evil in the world, so why do I still believe?

For me it is because the story of Jesus is the most compelling one that I have ever heard.

A God who creates everything from nothing, who breathes life and emits light with words, but who also sees us.

Who saw a brokenhearted enslaved woman fleeing her abusers,2 who saw an oppressed nation beaten down by a mighty empire,3 who saw a widowed Moabite woman struggling as a stranger in a foreign land,4 who saw the timid but brave woman who bled for twelve years but believed she could be healed,5 who saw and spoke with the Samaritan woman that society would have him hate,6 who sees me and sees you.

A God who knows and sees the depths of evil in the world, but chose to come anyway – not as a king but a humble man, who walked in the dust and touched the unclean.

The one with ultimate power, who chose to lay it all down.

So, despite the evil in the world that continues to fester, despite the wicked men who continue to prosper, I find comfort in this God who sees us and stoops down to be near. I do not always understand, but I cannot shake the beauty of this story.

“Therefore justice is far from us,

And righteousness does not reach us;

We hope for light, but there is darkness,

For brightness, but we walk in gloom.

We grope for the wall like people who are blind,

We grope like those who have no eyes.

We stumble at midday as in the twilight;

Among those who are healthy we are like the dead.

All of us growl like bears,

And moan sadly like doves;

We hope for justice, but there is none;

For salvation, but it is far from us.”

Isaiah 59:9-11

These verses paint a bleak picture: a world full of darkness and injustice. But the story does not end there.

In verse 15 the prophet continues:

“Truth is lacking, and one who turns aside from evil makes himself a prey. Now the Lord saw, and it was displeasing in His sight that there was no justice. And He saw that there was no one, and was amazed that there was not one to intercede; Then His own arm brought salvation to Him, and His righteousness upheld Him.”

We may feel like justice will never come, but despair never has the final word in the biblical story. That’s one of the reasons why it’s so important to read again and again. We think we know the story — we’ve read it before. Yet, reading it again when your hope feels dim is nourishing to the soul.

Life giving practices

I find great hope and comfort in spiritual practices and rhythms. These little habits ground me when the world seems tilted.

Christians today sometimes bristle at the idea of spiritual discipline, and not without cause. Legalism has a chokehold in many quarters yet, and making these practices into laws lays extra burdens on weary souls.

But when we engage in practices in freedom, they can truly be life giving. Intentional practices remind us that we can establish cadences in our lives that fuel peace and connection to God and each other.

One practice that I have found meaningful the last two years is stepping away from the social media scroll during Lent. This practice is illuminating and freeing for me, and the extra time that I gain in my days allows me to do more reading and meditating during the season leading up to Easter.

Lent was designed to help form us through some of the most ancient of faith practices.

Fasting.

Prayer.

Almsgiving.

These practices are not intended to give us yet another task on our list, but to shape us into people who are ready to hear the story of the cross with fresh eyes. Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness as he prepared to begin his public teaching. We in turn spend 40 days each year thinking more deeply and intentionally about how we can better align ourselves to his mission.

A couple of years ago I wrote about the “unforced rhythms of grace”2 that I experienced through Lent.

As someone who loves a good checklist and the feeling of satisfaction that comes from feeling productive, I have to remind myself that spiritual growth is not something we “achieve” our way into, but a slow, organic unfurling.

Like the timid and unpredictable progression of my Easter lily, which is making a glorious return this year, our spiritual growth cannot be managed or rushed. It’s a steady changing and evolving that’s indiscernible if you sit staring and hoping to catch it in the act.

-from my 2/27/24 post, Unforced Rhythms of Grace

So during Lent, and throughout the year, I do my best to cultivate these practices while also holding grace for the ways I practice imperfectly. I pray that God will use this time to form me into a person who lives and loves well.

The days pass with little moments of grace that come together to make a life.

• I sit on the back patio and watch the chickadees flit through the barren crepe myrtle branches. I relax as I listen to the cooing of the doves blend with the rumble of the cars driving past my backyard fence.

• I read without the distraction of the scroll and have more quiet space in my brain to process what I’ve been reading.

• We work on our house, making improvements both large and small to create a more welcoming and cozy space for ourselves and our guests.

• I shift my weekly grocery pickup from Walmart to Kroger, trying to choose the lesser of evils to receive our money and business, knowing it is not enough to change the greed of the empire, but it is something.

• I write a letter to the newspaper editor, arguing for the protection of immigrant children in our schools. (It was not published, but I keep writing anyway.)

These little rhythms don’t change the world, but they do change me.

They shape me into the person I am and the person I am becoming.

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What practices do you find meaningful during this season?

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After seven years of marriage, I find society’s dominate narrative about love to be so mystifying.

The love in our cultural storytelling is candy sweet: a sugar high of passion and reactivity. This type of love is packaged to us as the ultimate and most delicious prize to win, the pinnacle of happiness. The focus is on the intense passion of “firsts.” From the first individual we love to the many “first” experiences we encounter together in early romance, novelty is portrayed as the ultimate good to be desired.

This phenomenon is not merely confined to fiction. The knowing comments and smirks were everywhere when my husband and I first began dating.

“Just wait,” they said. “It won’t always be like this.”

The implication was that this was the good stuff, and later we would find out how life really is. Of course we are still pretty early in our marriage and have a lot of learning and growing to do. But almost a decade into marriage—while parenting three kids through a global pandemic and a myriad of other symptoms of societal collapse–I still think those comments were mistaken. 

The richest beauty of love is not found in the sugar high of the early days. The richest love occurs when you go through the fire together and come out with a bond you never could have imagined.

I can’t speak for everyone, but to me the best love is not like sugary sweet candy that melts in your mouth. The best love is like bread. It’s warm, and it strengthens and sustains you for another day.

Give us this day our daily bread, a prayer often answered in unexpected ways. 

As we face the struggles and heartbreaks of life together, we are bonded by having gone through the flames. A hot fire purifies gold and turns sand to sparkling glass, and a hot oven transforms bread, water, yeast, and salt into bread. In the same way, the fire of life experience changes us and makes us into something new and beautiful, both as individuals and as a team. 

The obsession with sugary-sweet love also trivializes the value of non-romantic love. To say that the pinnacle of life experience is only found in the throes of early romance is to discount the incredible value and beauty found in the love of a parent, a sibling, or a precious friend who makes us feel at home. Did Jesus miss the best of the human experience because his focus was on his disciples rather than a young bride? Certainly not.

We have idolized romance at the expense of self-sacrificing love for too long. It’s true that candy is sweet and fun to enjoy, but we need bread to sustain us. 

My prayer for you, dear reader, is that whether it is through a romantic partner, a faithful friend, or a familial bond, you will find a love that warms and sustains you in this life.

I am resharing this post from 2023 (with a few edits) in honor of my wedding anniversary this week.

Seven wonderful years have flown by so fast, and I am deeply greatly for each one.