A Call To America 2026

Today’s a new day!

There comes a time in the life of every nation when the greatest danger isn’t the enemy standing at its gates, but the darkness growing within its own walls.

A time when a country can have more wealth than ever before, yet feel spiritually bankrupt.

When we can communicate with someone on the other side of the world in seconds, but cannot have an honest conversation with the person sitting across the dinner table.

When we have more information than any generation in history, but seem to have less wisdom.

America, we need to talk.

Not as Republicans or Democrats.
Not as conservatives or liberals.
Not as red states or blue states.

But as human beings.

As neighbors.

As parents and children.

As people who still believe that truth matters, kindness matters, and the lives of our fellow human beings matter.

Because something is happening to us. And pretending otherwise will not save us.

We have become a nation where winning an argument seems more important than understanding another person.

Where we celebrate our own victories and laugh at another person’s suffering.

Where we can watch a family lose everything and scroll past it without a second thought.

We have learned to defend our political leaders more passionately than we defend the truth.

We have become so determined to prove the other side wrong that we have forgotten to ask whether we are doing what is right.

And somewhere along the way, we started confusing cruelty with strength.

But cruelty is not strength.

Hatred is not patriotism.

And humiliating another human being does not make you a better person.

A nation cannot remain united when its people are taught to hate one another.

We wave our flags. We sing our national anthem. We speak proudly about freedom.

And we should.

But freedom is not simply the right to say whatever we want.

It is also the responsibility to consider what our words do to the people who hear them.

It is the courage to defend the rights of people with whom we disagree.

It is the willingness to protect those at risk, even when doing so earns us no applause.

And it is the understanding that the person standing across the political aisle is still a human being created in the image of God.

America, we have a problem when we can quote the Constitution but ignore the humanity of our neighbors.

We have a problem when we demand religious freedom for ourselves but hesitate to defend it for others.

We have a problem when we claim to love the Bible but use its words as weapons against people who are already hurting.

And we have a problem when the name of Jesus becomes a political slogan instead of an invitation to love our neighbors.

Because Jesus never asked us to build His kingdom through hatred.

He told us to love our enemies.

He told us to care for the hungry.

He told us to welcome the stranger.

He told us to care for the sick.

And He warned us about judging others while refusing to examine ourselves.

Yet today, some of the loudest voices claiming to represent Christianity seem to have forgotten the very person they claim to follow.

Church, we must decide whether we want the power of a political kingdom or the transforming love of Jesus Christ. We cannot afford to confuse the two.

A political party cannot save a soul.

A president cannot die on a cross for your sins.

A flag cannot forgive you.

And no politician, regardless of party, should ever become more important to you than your faith, your conscience, or your commitment to the teachings of Jesus.

Our political leaders are human beings. They will disappoint us. They will make mistakes. Some will lie. Some will abuse their power.

They should be held accountable.

Not excused because they wear our party’s colors.

Not defended because we fear what the other side might do.

Truth does not change depending on who tells the lie.

Justice does not become optional when our preferred candidate is in trouble.

And integrity is not something we should demand only from people we oppose.

If we believe in accountability, let us practice it.

If we believe in honesty, let us tell the truth.

If we believe in justice, let us demand it for everyone.

And if we claim to follow Jesus, let us stop making excuses for behavior that contradicts His teachings.

The greatest threat to Christianity is not always the person attacking the church from the outside. Sometimes it is the person sitting inside the church who has forgotten what Jesus taught.

And what about our children?

What are we teaching them?

That success matters more than character?

That popularity matters more than integrity?

That having the most money, the most followers, or the loudest voice makes someone important?

That people who look different, pray differently, speak differently, or come from another country are somehow worth less than we are?

We cannot teach our children to love their neighbors while demonstrating contempt for our own.

We cannot tell them that bullying is wrong and then celebrate it when a politician bullies someone we dislike.

We cannot tell them to be kind while applauding cruelty.

Children are watching.

They are listening.

And they are learning far more from what we do than from what we tell them.

What kind of America are we preparing for them?

One where compassion is considered weakness?

One where disagreement becomes hatred?

One where school shootings have become so familiar that another grieving family barely interrupts our daily routine?

One where people struggling with poverty, disability, addiction, or mental illness are treated as problems to be ignored rather than neighbors to be loved?

Surely we can do better.

Surely a nation with our resources can find the will to protect its children, care for its vulnerable, and give people hope for tomorrow.

Surely we can disagree without destroying one another.

And surely we can remember that a person’s worth is not determined by their bank account, their political affiliation, their immigration status, their disability, or the color of their skin.

Every human being carries a dignity that no election can grant and no politician has the authority to take away.

Now, let us talk about the church.

Not the building.

Not the denomination.

Not the size of the congregation or the number of views on a livestream.

The church.

The people who claim to follow Jesus Christ.

Where are we when our neighbors are hurting?

Where are we when immigrants are afraid?

Where are we when a family is grieving?

Where are we when someone living with a disability feels forgotten?

Where are we when a teenager is struggling with depression and believes nobody cares whether they live or die?

Where are we when people who have been rejected by religious communities begin to believe that God must reject them, too?

Are we there?

Are we showing up?

Are we listening?

Are we loving people who cannot give us anything in return?

Or have we become so consumed with defending our own religious and political identities that we have forgotten our calling?

Jesus did not tell His followers that the world would recognize them by their political victories.

He said they would be known by their love.

That should stop us in our tracks.

Because if our Christianity makes us more hateful, more arrogant, more judgmental, and less compassionate, something has gone terribly wrong.

We may know the language of faith without practicing the heart of it.

We may defend Scripture without allowing Scripture to challenge us.

We may speak the name of Jesus while refusing to treat His children with the dignity they deserve.

A cross around your neck means little if there is no evidence of Christ’s love in your heart.

And now, America, a word about freedom.

Freedom is precious.

But freedom without responsibility becomes selfishness.

Faith without humility becomes arrogance.

Power without accountability becomes dangerous.

And patriotism without compassion becomes an excuse to ignore the suffering of others.

Loving America does not mean pretending America is perfect.

It means caring enough about this country to confront its failures and work toward something better.

It means telling the truth about our history, even when the truth makes us uncomfortable.

It means protecting the rights of those whose beliefs differ from our own.

It means refusing to let hatred become the price of belonging.

It means believing that our country can be both strong and compassionate, both free and responsible, both proud of its achievements and honest about its shortcomings.

We do not have to choose between loving our country and wanting it to improve.

In fact, sometimes the greatest expression of love is refusing to remain silent when something is wrong.

And perhaps that is where our warning begins.

Not with the collapse of a government.

Not with the defeat of a political party.

Not with the disappearance of a particular way of life.

But with the slow death of our willingness to care about one another.

Because a nation does not become great simply because it possesses wealth, weapons, technology, or influence.

It becomes stronger when its people recognize their responsibility to one another.

When a hungry child is fed.

When a grieving family is comforted.

When a stranger is welcomed.

When a sick person is not forgotten.

When the powerful are held accountable.

When the powerless are protected.

When truth matters more than winning.

And when love becomes more than a word we use to describe ourselves.

America, we are not powerless to change the direction in which we are heading.

We can begin in our homes.

We can begin in our churches.

We can begin in our neighborhoods.

We can begin by putting down our phones and listening to someone whose life looks different from ours.

We can begin by refusing to share a hateful post.

We can begin by apologizing when we are wrong.

We can begin by helping someone who will never vote like us.

We can begin by treating the person who disagrees with us as a human being rather than an enemy.

And we can begin by asking ourselves one uncomfortable question:

If Jesus were standing beside me today, would He recognize the way I am treating His children?

Not the way I worship.

Not the way I vote.

Not the way I describe my faith.

The way I treat people.

That is where the real examination begins.

I cannot predict America’s future.

I cannot promise that our divisions will disappear or that our problems will be solved overnight.

But I believe we still have a choice.

We can continue down the road of bitterness, division, and contempt.

Or we can choose a different way.

We can choose truth over propaganda.

Compassion over cruelty.

Humility over arrogance.

Service over self-interest.

And the teachings of Jesus over the demands of political tribalism.

It will not be easy.

Loving people who disagree with us is difficult.

Standing for justice when our own side is wrong is difficult.

Admitting our mistakes is difficult.

Choosing forgiveness when resentment feels justified is difficult.

But doing what is right has never depended on doing what is easy.

And following Jesus has never been a promise of comfort.

It is a calling to faithfulness.

A calling to love.

A calling to serve.

A calling to become the hands and feet of Christ in a world that desperately needs Him.

So, America, this is not a prediction of doom.

It is a warning about the choices we are making today.

A warning that we can lose something far more important than an election.

We can lose our compassion.

We can lose our integrity.

We can lose our willingness to see the humanity in one another.

And we can lose sight of the very faith we claim to defend.

But we can also turn around.

We can repent.

We can rebuild trust.

We can reach across the divides.

We can choose to love again.

And we can remember that the future is not shaped only by the people in Washington, the leaders on television, or the voices shouting across social media.

It is also shaped by ordinary people deciding, one encounter at a time, what kind of neighbors, parents, friends, citizens, and Christians they will be.

The question is not whether America will ever be perfect. It never has been.

The question is whether we still have the courage to become better.

Whether we can put humanity above hatred.

Whether we can put service above selfishness.

Whether we can put the Gospel above our political loyalties.

And whether we can rediscover the simple, demanding, world-changing truth that loving God must never become an excuse for withholding love from our neighbors.

Because when the history of this generation is written, I wonder what will be remembered.

The politicians we defended?

The arguments we won?

The people we defeated?

Or the people we loved?

I wonder whether our children will remember a nation that taught them to fear one another or one that taught them to care for one another.

And I wonder whether the church will be remembered as a community that fought to control the world or one that courageously showed the world what the love of Jesus looks like.

America, the choice is before us.

We cannot change yesterday. We cannot control tomorrow. But we can decide who we will be today.

And perhaps the most important question of all is this:

When God looks at our lives—not our political parties, not our national symbols, not our public declarations of faith, but our hearts—will He see people who loved their neighbors as themselves?

Will He see people who cared for the least of these?

Will He see people who pursued justice, loved mercy, and walked humbly with Him?

Or will He see people who spent so much time fighting for power that they forgot what they were supposed to be fighting for?

May God forgive us where we have failed.

May He give us the courage to tell the truth.

May He soften the hearts we have allowed hatred to harden.

May He comfort those who are hurting, protect those who are vulnerable, and challenge those of us who have grown comfortable.

And may He remind us that the answer to a world filled with hatred is not more hatred.

It is a love strong enough to stand for truth, courageous enough to confront injustice, humble enough to admit its own failures, and faithful enough to serve even when nobody is watching.

America, wake up.

Not because one political party is evil.

Not because one election will save us.

But because we are in danger of forgetting what makes us human.

And, church, wake up.

Not to seize power.

Not to win a culture war.

But to return to Jesus.

Because the greatest revival America could ever experience would not begin with a political victory.

It would begin when ordinary people fall in love with Jesus again—and begin treating the people around them as if they actually believe what He taught.

That revival can begin in you.

It can begin in me.

It can begin today.

God, help us become the people we claim to be.

And may we never forget:

The strength of a nation is not measured only by the power it possesses, but by the love it is willing to give.

— A Call to America, 2026

Racial Violence. Death. Hanging. Silence.

Tasia Fortune was found hanging.

I do not believe it was suicide.

But if you believe this was a suicide, then you should still demand that every question be answered. If there are circumstances that raise questions about whether her death was truly a suicide, then those questions deserve a real, independent investigation—not dismissal, not silence, and not another case quietly filed away.

Mississippi has a painful history of Black people dying under circumstances that have left families and communities demanding answers. For decades, deaths involving trees, ropes, and hanging have carried the horrifying shadow of America’s history of racial terror.

And now, in 2026, we are still having these conversations.

That should disturb every one of us.

Dear White Community: silence is not neutrality when people are demanding justice.

You don’t have to know every fact to demand that the facts be uncovered.

You don’t have to have all the answers to stand beside a grieving family.

And you don’t have to wait until something happens to someone you love before you decide that every human life deserves the same level of scrutiny, dignity, and protection.

Demand a real investigation.

Demand independent oversight.

Demand federal review when circumstances warrant it.

Demand transparency.

And demand that our laws be strong enough that justice is never dependent upon someone’s race, wealth, power, ZIP code, or political connections.

This isn’t about jumping to conclusions.

It’s about refusing to accept unanswered questions when a human being is dead.

It’s about refusing to let history repeat itself in silence.

It’s about making sure that when a Black person dies under suspicious or disputed circumstances, the response isn’t:

“Move along. Nothing to see here.”

No!

We have something to see.

We have questions to ask.

We have families to hear.

We have institutions to hold accountable.

And we have a moral obligation to insist that  every death deserves the truth.

Because justice delayed is painful.

Justice denied is devastating.

But justice ignored is a choice.

And silence is a choice, too.

Choose to speak.
Choose to ask questions.
Choose to demand the truth. ~OC

Hope Isles: A New Beginning/Chapter Twenty-Six-The Meeting

By six o’clock, every chair inside the town hall was occupied.

And then some.

People stood along the walls.

Others crowded near the back doors.

A few leaned against open windows.

Hope Isles had not seen this kind of turnout in years.

The entire island seemed to have arrived.

Walter sat quietly near the front.

June occupied two seats.

One for herself.

One for pie.

Nobody questioned it.

James and Sarah stood near the side of the room, watching residents filter in.

The atmosphere felt strange.

Not hostile.

Not yet.

But tense.

Like everyone was waiting for something important to happen.

Because they were.

At precisely six-thirty, the developers entered.

Three men.

Two women.

Professional.

Polished.

Confident.

The kind of confidence that came from giving the same presentation many times before.

Their leader stepped forward.

His name was Richard Kane.

Tall.

Well-spoken.

Impeccably dressed.

His smile seemed genuine enough.

But Walter immediately distrusted anyone whose shoes looked that expensive on an island.

Richard adjusted the microphone.

“Good evening.”

A few people nodded.

Most simply stared.

He continued.

“Thank you for welcoming us to your beautiful community.”

June whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear.

“We haven’t decided if we’re welcoming you yet.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.

Even Richard smiled.

“Fair enough.”

For the next thirty minutes, Harbor Horizon Development presented its vision.

The presentation was impressive.

Beautiful renderings filled the screen.

Modern hotels.

Expanded marinas.

Restaurants.

Retail spaces.

New housing.

Walking paths.

Public gathering areas.

Everything looked pristine.

Everything looked successful.

Everything looked expensive.

When the presentation ended, Richard smiled confidently.

“We believe Hope Isles has tremendous potential.”

The room remained silent.

Then Walter quietly muttered:

“That’s what worries me.”

Questions immediately began.

Some residents liked parts of the proposal.

Others hated nearly all of it.

The discussion grew animated.

At times emotional.

But mostly respectful.

Then James noticed something.

One image on the screen.

One section of the proposed development.

His stomach tightened.

He raised his hand.

Richard pointed toward him.

“Yes?”

James stepped forward.

The room grew quiet.

He pointed toward the map.

“That area there.”

Richard nodded.

“Yes.”

“What is currently located there?”

The developer glanced at the screen.

Then answered.

“Several underutilized properties.”

James didn’t react.

“Such as?”

Richard hesitated.

Then finally said it.

“Hope House.”

The room went silent.

Completely silent.

The words seemed to hang in the air.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Then June slowly stood.

A dangerous development.

Even Walter looked concerned.

She crossed her arms.

“You called Hope House underutilized?”

Richard immediately realized his mistake.

“Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words.”

“No kidding.”

More laughter spread through the room.

But this time it carried an edge.

James remained calm.

At least outwardly.

Inside, however, emotions churned.

Hope House wasn’t just a building.

Thousands of stories lived there.

Recovery groups.

Youth programs.

Community meals.

Counseling sessions.

Friendships.

Second chances.

Hope.

How could someone look at all that and see an underutilized property?

Before James could respond, another voice spoke.

“Excuse me.”

Everyone turned.

Daniel had entered the room.

The ferry from the mainland had arrived only an hour earlier.

Yet somehow he was already there.

Standing near the back.

The room parted slightly as he walked forward.

James blinked.

“Dad?”

Daniel smiled.

“Surprise.”

Walter grinned.

“Good timing.”

Daniel approached the front.

Though still recovering, he looked stronger than he had in months.

Healthier.

More at peace.

Richard extended his hand.

“Good evening.”

Daniel shook it politely.

Then looked toward the screen.

Toward the development plans.

Toward Hope House.

Something changed in his expression.

Recognition.

Unexpected recognition.

Richard noticed immediately.

“Have we met?”

Daniel stared at him for several seconds.

Then nodded slowly.

“I believe we have.”

The room became very still.

Richard frowned.

“I’m sorry. From where?”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“The mainland.”

Richard searched his memory.

Then suddenly his face changed.

The color drained from it.

Just slightly.

But enough.

Enough for James to notice.

Enough for Walter to notice.

Enough for everyone to notice.

“You worked for Preston & Kane,” Richard said quietly.

Daniel nodded.

Years ago.

Long before Hope Isles.

Long before reconciliation.

Long before his illness.

Long before everything.

A murmur spread across the room.

James looked confused.

“What is Preston & Kane?”

Daniel didn’t answer immediately.

Instead he looked directly at Richard.

Then at the development plans.

Then at his son.

Finally he spoke.

“A company that taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life.”

The room waited.

Daniel’s voice remained calm.

Measured.

Steady.

“We were very good at making money.”

Silence.

“And sometimes very bad at understanding what money couldn’t buy.”

Richard looked uncomfortable.

For the first time all evening, the polished presentation seemed less polished.

The confidence less certain.

Margaret, seated beside Walter, suddenly sat forward.

She recognized the name too.

And that worried her.

A lot.

Because if Daniel knew Richard Kane…

And Richard Kane knew Daniel…

Then this conflict was about to become far more personal than anyone realized.

Outside, the lighthouse beam swept across the harbor.

The tide continued rising.

And somewhere beneath decades of hidden history, old decisions were beginning to surface.

Decisions that connected Daniel’s past, 

Samuel’s legacy, and Harbor Horizon’s plans in ways no one yet fully understood.

The battle for Hope Isles had officially begun.

And before it ended, James would discover that the greatest threat to the island wasn’t coming from strangers.

It was buried within a chapter of his family’s story that had never been told.

To Be Continued…

Hope Isles: A New Beginning/Chapter Twenty-Five- A Visitor From The Past

The ferry arrived just after noon.

Most people barely noticed.

Ferries came and went every day.

Tourists arrived.

Supplies were delivered.

Visitors came to experience the charm of Hope Isles.

Nothing unusual.

Except this time, Walter was waiting at the dock.

And he wasn’t waiting for supplies.

He was waiting for her.

The woman with the leather briefcase.

As passengers stepped onto the dock, Walter scanned the crowd.

Then he saw her.

Late fifties.

Silver-streaked hair.

Confident posture.

Kind eyes that seemed to carry years of experience.

When she spotted Walter, she smiled.

“Well, I’ll be.”

Walter laughed softly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

The woman extended her hand.

“I wasn’t sure you’d call.”

Walter shook it.

“It’s been a long time, Margaret.”

“It has.”

By mid-afternoon, James found himself sitting inside Hope House with Sarah, Walter, and the mysterious visitor.

The briefcase rested on the table.

Margaret looked around the room thoughtfully.

“So this is what Samuel built.”

James leaned forward.

“You knew my grandfather?”

Margaret smiled warmly.

“Very well.”

That immediately got his attention.

Walter folded his arms.

“Margaret worked with Samuel years ago.”

“Worked with him doing what?” James asked.

Margaret chuckled.

“Trying to keep him out of trouble.”

Sarah laughed.

“That sounds like a full-time job.”

“You have no idea.”

For the next hour, Margaret shared stories.

Stories James had never heard.

Stories about a younger Samuel.

A man who wasn’t always wise.

A man who made mistakes.

A man who occasionally charged into situations without thinking.

James found himself smiling.

It sounded surprisingly familiar.

Margaret noticed.

“You’re more like him than you realize.”

James wasn’t entirely sure that was a compliment.

Eventually the conversation became serious.

Margaret carefully opened her briefcase.

Inside were additional documents.

Legal records.

Property agreements.

Letters.

Maps.

Years of history.

She spread them across the table.

“Samuel planned farther ahead than most people knew.”

Walter nodded.

“That’s becoming obvious.”

Margaret pointed to one document.

“He understood that someday Hope Isles would face pressure from outside interests.”

James frowned.

“You mean developers?”

“Exactly.”

The room grew quiet.

Margaret continued.

“Samuel wasn’t against growth.”

“Neither are we,” Sarah said.

Margaret smiled.

“Good. Because neither was he.”

She tapped the documents.

“He simply believed growth should serve people.”

“Not replace them.”

James immediately thought about Hope House.

The café.

The harbor.

The families who called the island home.

The people who had built lives there.

The people who belonged there.

Margaret slid one final document toward James.

“This is why I came.”

James carefully picked it up.

The title immediately caught his eye.

Hope Isles Community Covenant

The paper was old.

Signed decades earlier.

But still legally binding.

His eyes widened as he read.

“What is this?”

Margaret leaned back.

“It’s your grandfather’s vision.”

The covenant outlined principles that would govern the community trust.

Not rules.

Principles.

Commitments.

Promises.

The kind of things that couldn’t be measured in dollars.

Community.

Service.

Stewardship.

Hospitality.

Faith.

Protecting the vulnerable.

Preserving the island’s character.

James felt his throat tighten.

It sounded exactly like Hope Isles.

Not because Samuel had forced it.

Because generations of people had lived it.

That evening, word spread quickly.

Margaret became the newest topic of conversation across town.

June was especially interested.

Naturally.

By sunset, Margaret found herself seated in Sit Awhile Café with a slice of pie she never requested.

June placed another slice in front of her.

Margaret stared.

“I haven’t finished the first one.”

June nodded.

“Nobody ever does.”

Walter laughed into his coffee.

Some things on Hope Isles never changed.

As darkness settled over the harbor, James walked alone to the beach.

The waves rolled gently onto shore.

The storm had passed.

The sea looked peaceful again.

He pulled his grandfather’s letter from his pocket.

For several minutes, he reread portions of it.

Especially the final paragraph.

The words felt different now.

Bigger somehow.

As though he was beginning to understand them.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You look exactly like he did.”

James turned.

Margaret stood nearby.

Hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

“What do you mean?”

She smiled softly.

“The way you’re carrying the weight.”

James looked away.

“I’m not sure I want the responsibility.”

Margaret nodded.

“Neither did Samuel.”

That surprised him.

“Really?”

“Oh yes.”

She looked out toward the ocean.

“The difference is he eventually learned something.”

“What?”

Margaret’s smile deepened.

“God never asks us to carry the future.”

James remained silent.

Waiting.

“He only asks us to be faithful today.”

The words settled deeply.

Almost like something Walter would say.

Or Samuel.

Or perhaps something God had been trying to teach him all along.

The next morning, the island awoke to another surprise.

A large banner had appeared near the harbor.

Professional.

Expensive.

Impossible to ignore.

It announced the public meeting scheduled for the following evening.

The developers had arrived.

And they intended to make their case.

People stopped to read it.

Conversations immediately started.

Tension spread.

Questions multiplied.

Some residents were curious.

Others worried.

A few were already angry.

The storm Walter had sensed was no longer approaching.

It had reached shore.

And before the week was over, Hope Isles would be forced to make a choice.

Not between old and new.

Not between growth and tradition.

But between competing visions of what the island’s future should become.

And hidden among the developers’ plans was one detail nobody had yet discovered.

A detail that connected directly to Daniel.

A connection that would soon place James’s family at the center of the conflict.

To Be Continued..,

Letter Two: To A Nation Wrestling With Its Reflection

Dear America, 

There is an undeniable tension in the soul of this country when it comes to matters of race. We have made progress—this cannot be denied—but progress has not erased pain, nor has it resolved the deeper wounds that linger beneath the surface.

Too often, conversations about race are either avoided out of discomfort or inflamed by anger without understanding. In this fragile space, truth becomes a casualty. Some cling to narratives that deny injustice altogether, while others lose hope that reconciliation is even possible.

But we must resist both denial and despair.

The path forward requires honesty—the kind that does not seek to assign guilt, but to illuminate reality. 

It requires empathy—the willingness to step into another’s experience without defensiveness. 

It requires courage—the strength to confront not only the systems around us, but the biases within us.

A nation cannot heal what it refuses to acknowledge.

With steadfast hope,

A Servant of the Dream Yet to Be Fully Realized ~OC

Today

Today’s a new day! As I scrolled through social media this morning and watched the news, my heart broke with all the hate I saw. A lady in Atlanta trying to burn down the childhood home of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. All the antisemitism and hate against Muslims. The hate against Christians. As I scrolled through all this hate, I realized the as Christians we have to step up and act by shining God’s love and light on this hate and violence. We need to pray, to be sure. But those prayers must also be met with peaceful steps of action that respond to this unconscionable violence and evil with a resounding No.

This is not a call to activism per se. This is a call to truly be the hands and feet of Jesus. He provides an example of love for all, and commands that we do the same (Matthew 22:36-40.) But love is not only an emotion we feel for individuals, it is the basis and fuel for action. If we truly love all of our neighbors, it stands to reason that we must act when they come under attack.

The love of God never fails (1 Cor 13), but too often our love does. It fails each time there is an act of racism or hatred perpetrated and we remain silent. In those moments, when we choose not to speak up, to pray, to advocate for change and to educate ourselves and our sphere of influence, we are complicit. Our love does fail at times, and we have the power to change that.

As each of us watch the news or scroll through social media we see the evil of bigotry and racism. The violence we are seeing is where bigotry and racism lead. We need to speak up. Today, we have multiple ways to peacefully make our voices heard. We can talk to our families, speak with our children and co-workers about the realities of hatred and racism. We can engage in thoughtful dialogue online and make posts on social media. We can take steps in our own lives to demonstrate Christ-like, action-oriented love to everyone, and to our neighbors who may be the subject of this violence.

Let’s come together on these issues and decide in our hearts to take some step of action, right now. Today we can make a difference. ~OC

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