Clarity.

Clarity can be a painful thing. But I believe it to be so formative, sobering, and redirecting.

Today has been really hard. I’ve cried. I’ve raged. I’ve deprived any would be arguments of excuses. I’ve tried to navigate how supremely disconnected I feel from this choice. I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself or put too many expectations on what I ought to be in this moment.

I’m a mess. And my faith and my internal reasoning feel really at odds today. And I’m just gonna let that be.

I’m gonna let it be messy.

Hey everyone, my feelings are super messy today.

A few years ago, I worked very very hard, called lots of people, spoke with higher ups and shared so many stories hoping an organization I used to work for would see that some of their practices were causing serious harm to young people. I had a lot of hope that by hearing these stories and seeing these arguments, and considering the pain at hand, they would change course and practice better. I expended a lot of pain and energy having these conversations. Hope led me to try.

Instead, they doubled down and taught their employees how to respond against us.

And bruised, I had to decide where to direct what remained of my hope because this effort felt definitive. It was made clear the change I had hoped for wasn’t coming.

The seeming finality of that clarity helped me give more of my energy directly to the vulnerable people. And towards being an alternative for anyone that might be looking. I did what I could to become what I had hoped they would be. And I’ve been giving my energy there. And I think it’s working. I feel good doing this work. It feels like it really matters.

I recently was reflecting on a line from Jedidiah Jenkins in his book “Mother, Nature.” In it he wrote about his experience, “Now, with hope dead, I’m free.”

It has been living in my mind all day.

But so is this.

Love renews our hope. Clarity redirects our work.

Rather than the expensing work of trying to change minds, expose lies, show people just how wrong they are, we moved to the far more rewarding work of simply being there for those we believed are harmed and building a better world for them.

There’s much to this I am still learning. It’s something I feel like I’ve known for years, but all my impulses lead me against it.

“Don’t cast your pearls to the pigs.” Is the best biblical equal I can imagine. (But nobody wants to be called a pig.)

Doing the “better thing”. All energy to the better thing. Let it be the light that shines in the darkness. It’s bound to draw more in than any angry finger.

To be clear, I still have hope for that better day and that that organization and their leaders may one day change their harmful practices. And I still believe there’s a place and need for prophetic voices. But there also may be a time to dust off our sandals, and keep walking. To not dwell on where we are unwelcome and instead become welcoming. The work and energy of my hope went to the kids whose world I wanted to be safer and brighter.

Turn off the news and build a garden.

My hope was released from all the taxing telling and convincing energy and was freed to devote to more doing and creating energy. And I like to believe many of us found renewed hope by how many people came forward to help us build something safer and better.

In fact we found a whole new community altogether. One rooted in what we were for.

Come and see that the feast is good.

I will hold on hope.