Telling the truth costs less than pretending.
Somewhere along the way, it became clear to me that pretending everything is fine was costing me more than telling the truth ever could.
I believe the world is broken. Not in a poetic or abstract sense, but in a very real, very present way. Something is fractured right now in our systems, in how power operates, in how easily people are harmed and then explained away. Something is off in how quickly fear spreads and how slowly accountability shows up. Pretending this is just another rough chapter we’ll eventually move past feels like a lie we use to protect our comfort.
People are scared. People are hurting. People are angry. People are exhausted. For many, this moment isn’t theoretical or political. It’s personal. It’s lived. It’s carried in the body.
When fear becomes lived experience
This is crazy to write…right now, in the USA, people are being harmed, even killed, by those who are supposed to protect them. Racism isn’t hidden or subtle. It’s visible. Accountability feels invisible. Systems we were told would correct themselves feel unreliable or absent altogether. When that happens, fear doesn’t only stay in the headlines. It moves into how people walk down the street, how they interact with authority, how they calculate safety in places that were meant to feel secure.
That kind of fear doesn’t turn off. It settles in. It shapes how you survive.
Naming this isn’t exaggeration. It’s honesty and honesty, uncomfortable as it is, is the starting point for love.
My privilege, plainly stated
I also need to say something else plainly, because anything less would feel dishonest. I don’t experience all of this the same way everyone does.
I don’t carry the same daily fear. I don’t move through the world with remotely the same level of threat humming under the surface. I don’t have to think through my safety in every interaction. That’s not because I’m braver or better. It’s because of privilege. How I look, where I live, and how the system often works for me instead of against me.
That privilege cannot be an excuse.
Not an excuse to disengage. Not an excuse to stay quiet. Not an excuse to soften the truth so no one gets uncomfortable. If anything, it removes my excuses.
Because privilege isn’t about guilt. It’s about responsibility. It comes with access to safety, to being believed, to speaking without the same consequences. If I use that access only to protect my comfort, then I’m not neutral. I’m choosing myself over my neighbor.
Silence doesn’t feel neutral to people who are afraid. It feels like abandonment. It becomes a loud statement.
When silence becomes a choice
Dietrich Bonhoeffer named this with a clarity that still cuts: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”
Those words don’t let me hide behind good intentions or polite distance. They don’t let me confuse quiet with peace or spirituality with inaction. They convict me.
Loving without hating, acting without becoming cruel
Here’s the tension I’m trying to live inside of.
I believe I’m called to love my neighbor. All of them.
That includes neighbors who are different from me. Neighbors who see the world differently. Neighbors who don’t trust me. Neighbors who may even hate me. Refusing to hate matters. Resisting dehumanization matters.
But love does not mean passivity.
Love does not mean silence when people are being harmed. Love does not mean politeness when injustice is loud. Love does not mean asking people in pain to calm down so others don’t have to feel uncomfortable.
Love means helping the hurting. Protecting the vulnerable. Standing with those who are afraid. Naming what is wrong even when it costs something.
I can hold both. I have to hold both.
I can refuse to hate my neighbor and refuse to be quiet. I can reject violence and resist injustice. I can love people while confronting systems that are doing real harm. That kind of love isn’t soft. It’s disciplined. It’s exhausting, and if I’m honest, it feels difficult right now.
Staying human when the pressure is to harden
When systems break and fear rises, the pull is toward extremes. Toward numbness or cruelty. Toward giving up or hardening. Toward becoming exactly what we’re afraid of.
Love is the refusal to go there.
Love says, “I will not pretend this is fine,” and at the same time says, “I will not surrender my humanity.” It chooses learning and curiosity over assuming. Presence over explaining away. It shows up in peaceful protest when dignity is denied. It advocates for justice without abandoning compassion. It resists violence not just in action, but in language, posture, and tone. It protects space for grief instead of rushing people toward forgiveness or closure.
Carrying your part with integrity
Being light in a broken world doesn’t mean carrying the whole world. It means carrying your part of it with integrity.
Your voice. Your influence. Your presence. Your willingness to be uncomfortable so someone else doesn’t have to stand alone.
I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know how this resolves. I don’t know how long this season lasts. But I do know this: I don’t want the brokenness to decide who I become and I won’t have my privilege be an excuse for silence.
So I will try, imperfectly, to speak when it would be easier not to. To act when inaction would keep me safe. To love when it costs me something. To help where fear and pain are real. To stay human when everything around me is pushing toward the opposite.
Even when it feels heavy. Especially when it feels hard.
Try This
This week, move love out of theory and into your body. Learn from voices closest to the pain. Show up to a peaceful protest. Offer presence or protection to someone who feels unsafe. Speak when silence would keep you comfortable but leave someone else alone.
Reflection
Where am I tempted to confuse loving my neighbor with staying quiet, and what would courageous love require of me instead?
Weekly Challenge
Have one conversation this week where you resist the urge to correct, defend, or explain. Listen fully. Let the discomfort do its work. Stay present long enough to learn.
Go Be
Go be light in a world this broken. Go be honest when silence is easier. Go be loving without looking away. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.
So choose love and let it speak.
#BeingHumanKind #HumanFirst
