Dear friends,
Recently on Facebook, I shared a few of my open, honest thoughts on the heaviness, grief, and exhaustion that so many of us seem to be carrying right now. Your response was moving, insightful, and a powerful reminder that none of us is walking through these times alone.
As I read your comments, stories, and wrestling, I noticed several recurring themes I wanted to share. Here they are along with the questions and anchors that emerged from our conversation:
The Weight is Real
So many of you expressed a deep, shared agreement with the word “grief.” There is a collective exhaustion with the division, political heartbreak, and systemic brokenness in our world. Some shared the pain of lost friendships over differing political views; others admitted to the temptation to simply turn off the news and tune out because the burden feels too heavy to carry. Knowing that others feel this same weight is a comfort in itself.
Lament as Discipleship, Beauty as Resistance
Several of you pointed out that sorrow, anger, and lament aren’t signs of weak faith—they are evidence that our hearts haven’t gone completely numb. As one of you reminded us, keeping our hearts tender is basic to our faith and discipleship.
At the same time, you reminded one another to actively seek out beauty—whether through a walk on the beach, the mountains, poetry, music, or a shared meal. Looking for goodness isn’t an escape from reality; it is an active act of spiritual resistance against despair. It reminds us that evil and suffering do not have the final word.
The Power of “Small Faithfulness”
When global problems feel overwhelming, the consensus was clear: focus on what is right in front of you.
Doing small, daily acts of kindness.
Engaging in local community service and civic life.
Praying intentionally for specific people and situations, especially those suffering from conflict.
Raising the next generation to walk in love and truth.
We cannot solve every macro-level crisis on our own, but small, faithful acts of love are where transformation takes root and grows.
Anchored in Hope
Through all the hard questions about our history, institutions, and culture, hope held our conversation together. Not a naive optimism that ignores real pain, but a deep, grounded trust in what we believe and hold dear. For many of us, placing our hope in Jesus means seeing Love itself step into the middle of the world’s mess.
Moving Forward
To everyone who commented, messaged, prayed, or simply read along: thank you. Thank you for your honesty, openness, and willingness to sit together in the tension without giving up on love.
I will continue to post on FB from my Substack account and would appreciate your thoughts and feedback. Your input helps me reflect more deeply and write about what’s stirring within. Hopefully, it will prompt us to think and care for others and for this beautiful earth we share.
Let’s remember that we all come from different faith traditions and perhaps hold different values. Often, that’s when we learn the most about ourselves and about each other.
Keep holding space for lament, keep your eyes open to beauty, practice small acts of faithfulness, and remind yourself and others that the light will always overcome the darkness.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” — Matthew 5:4