To Protest or Not to Protest?

It never ceases to amaze me how so often my contemplative life and my reading life intertwine.

For example, yesterday as I was conceptualizing this blog having felt the need (if only for myself) as I was reading, wrestling, and contemplating over the peaceful morning flickering candlelight that I realized just how angry I constantly was while joining protests during 2020.

Not to say I don’t believe in or support the efforts and demand to eradicate systemic injustice and brutality. I absolutely do.

What I mean to say, is that when I was engaging in this way at that time, I was constantly exhausted and defensive and mentally preparing arguments for the next attack from a very small, very dark place. I tied my morality, my identity, and my worth to my opinions and my actions, and that was neither healthy nor sustainable.

Perhaps there is a way for me to engage more productively in protests in the future, and perhaps my pen is my protest and that is the action to which I must commit.

I’m not yet sure.

What I do know is that I made a lot of mistakes as I sought to find myself and my place in a confusing world and that today as I was reading, Richard Rohr encapsulated my thinking on both these points so succinctly and poignantly.

I’ve met so many wonderful social activists. I often agree with their conclusions and with their politics, but, to be honest. . . they [often] seem to be as alienated, angry, and negative as are the people not the other side of the argument. (p. 87)

Dancing Standing Still

This is how I find myself to have been–in hindsight. Not to say this is true of everyone, but I most definitely fell into this very suffocating, for me, trap. I agree with what I was trying to do just not how I did it, and I don’t want to engage in the same small, angry way I did then with the injustices I see today.

I am just as passionate and troubled and upset over many of the things I see happening in our world today, and I feel I must try a different tact.

As Rohr wrote just two pages earlier,

But as we come to know our soul gift more clearly, we almost always have to let go of some other ‘gifts’ so we can do our one or two things with integrity, instead of always being driven by what has been called ‘the tyranny of the urgent.’ Soon urgency is a way of life, and things are not done contemplatively or peacefully from within. Do one or two things wholeheartedly in your life: that is all God expects and all you can probably do well. Too much good work becomes a violence to yourself, and finally, to those around you. (p.85)

This is where I find myself today. Attempting to live slowly, thoughtfully, purposefully, and with integrity. I’m trying to scale back, so that what I do, I can do well and with fewer mistakes and damaged relationships along the way.

By no means am I there, but hold me accountable, and please have grace when I blunder, as this is what I aim to pursue.

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Why here? Why now?

Quarantine led to an increase of my use of social media–as it did for many around the world. In an effort to connect with others, I created new accounts, learned to use new platforms, and became much more aware of different trends that were taking place worldwide and particularly within evangelical America.

Suddenly, I found myself encountering posts from commentators like Candace Owens and Ben Shapiro as many with whom I grew up found great comfort, clarity, assurance, and direction from their words.

While I found myself angry and responding publicly from a charged place of too much emotion (that regrettably damaged relationships with people I love), I eventually began wondering how I had come to see the world in such a different light than those with whom I had once found myself living in lockstep.

Today, I find myself in a similar place though from a different vantage point.

Once again I find myself surrounded by opinions that wildly differ. There are many I know who revere Charlie Kirk as a man of God who spoke God’s truth while others despise the things he had to say as hate-filled rhetoric. Many I know are antagonistic towards immigrants (both documented and undocumented), while many I know and love are immigrants (both documented and undocumented). Many believe racism is extinct and white privilege is a lie, while many others share stories of harmful, racist things that happened to them and the structural inequities they have faced and fought to overcome.

My fractured world is divided by party, by policy, by race, by religion. But here I push back.

I’m tired of the hate, of the vitriol, of the us and them, the right and wrong.

Yes, many say hurtful things–myself included.

I have made an utter mess as I’ve tried to find my way forward. I have deeply hurt people who mean the world to me, some with whom I’ve reconciled and some with whom I haven’t and perhaps never will. These are scars I will always carry with me.

I spent the first twenty years of my life steeped in evangelical America. The next ten were spent rebelling in liberal academia. The last five have been questioning.

Questioning:

  • Why are my world’s so disjointed and separate?
  • Must I hate one to be accepted by the other?
  • Is there a way I can bring the two together?

There has to be an alternative way to read the world and interact with one another. One that centers love, grace, compassion, empathy, and humanity.

This is my aim. To create a space where we can engage and learn and reflect and grow together. Regardless of where we grew up, of what we believe.

I believe, we can make this world a little better, a little brighter, and little more filled with hope and joy.

Join me, please.

It will hard. It will be messy. And, I believe, it will be worth it.

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