One More Choice

I’ve had Facebook for the last 3 elections, and I have never seen things get as personal as this one. Discussions were not being had; people were being talked at. If someone voiced a different opinion, they were not welcomed into the discussion, but belittled and attacked.

And this happened among friends.

The damage has been done, the words have been said, and the wounds have been inflicted. We are tired. We are all tired of hearing one thing or another, and being made to fit into one box or another. We are numb and weak from fighting back.

But I’m asking that we all make one more choice.

Decide if it’s more important for you to be right, or if it’s more important for you to be in right relationship with those in your community and your circle of friends.

These are the people who will go to your kids’ soccer games, run the booster club with you, or sit with you for coffee or a meal. The politicians will continue to be faces in the crowd and our TVs, and they will be perched on a mountaintop we cannot scale. They will never love us back, nor will they feed and clothe us when we are broken.

But we, the people, will be in each other’s lives, day in and day out. We, the people, must be each other’s community, and we must hope for a successful term, whether we voted him in or not.

Because what he does in these next 4 years does not affect only those who voted for him, but it affects all of us and even the world, and the generations that follow. If the captain doesn’t know what he is doing, the ship will sink with all aboard.

So pray for our neighbors, pray for our leaders—both locally and federally. Decide if a relationship is worth it, and say what you need to say in order to mend it or move on from it. Think before you speak and act. Listen before you pass judgment. Learn what it means to truly love, sacrificially and unconditionally, to the point where it is uncomfortable and asks us to give everything we have.

“Love your neighbor as yourself” is not a nice sentiment. It is a command. Love your neighbor. Love your African American neighbor. Love your Mexican neighbor. Love your Asian neighbor. Love your gay neighbor. Love your hypocritical neighbor. Love your white neighbor. Love your Muslim neighbor. Love your racist neighbor.

Love like Christ loved the church and gave all for her.

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dichotomy

A sharp, deep intake of breath, she sits up suddenly, hands seeking heart.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

Mind racing, life blurs before unfocused eyes, still blinking off sleep that has long since fled.

Chaos.

Her life is in chaos.

Future undecided, unwritten, unforged; left to her to define, decide, decipher.

Chaos.

Complete and utter chaos.

“My peace I give to you.”

Peace.

Chaos.

The two stop warring, somehow conceive a delicate truce, and live in community in her heart.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

Peace is planted. The seed dies, the plant takes root. Peace in chaos. Fed with Living Water, roots dig deep into good soil, tilled and plowed to readiness. Deeper, deeper, deeper still, until uprooting peace means destroying the heart.

Peace has taken root.

Peace will begin to blossom until chaos is infected with it. There will be no place to hide, no place to run. Peace will overcome chaos.

It’s beating.

It’s alive.

In chaos.

In peace.

Trek forward. The future belongs to her. It will be decided by a mighty force, written by a graceful hand, and forged by heart-shattering affliction; hers to define, hers to decide, hers to decipher.

His to lead.