These are heavy times for many people.
In nearly every meeting I attend, I hear stories of fear, pain, and the erosion of love for our neighbors. People see communities retreating inward, turning away from the shared responsibility to care for one another.
I have heard:
- Muslim, Sikh, and Jewish leaders express deep concern about vandalism and violence targeting their communities.
- Recent immigrants being harassed in public, facing verbal abuse simply for existing.
- People in the disability community struggling as essential resources quietly disappear from government websites.
- Catholic and Lutheran community services falsely accused on social media—reaching over 20 million views—of being “money laundering” schemes that funnel money to churches instead of providing real assistance. These accusations are lies.
- A Midwestern nonprofit feeling forced to change its language about honoring the humanity of every person out of fear of retribution.
- LGBTQ children experiencing a dramatic rise in bullying—both physical and verbal.
- Indigenous people facing greater risks when in public.
- Institutions and individuals who once claimed to be brave now shifting their values just to fit in.
This list came easily. We all could add to it.
It’s overwhelming.
But love of neighbor requires that we pay attention and take action.
And yet—it’s still overwhelming.
Joy as Resistance
A few weeks ago, my spouse and I invited some friends over for dinner. They are caring for a six-month-old baby. We took turns holding her, and for about half an hour, she slept peacefully in my arms.
That moment reminded me of Psalm 8:
“Out of the mouths of babes and infants,
you have founded a bulwark because of your foes,
to silence the enemy and the avenger.”
This psalm suggests that even in the face of hardship, we must ground ourselves in gratitude—in the deep joy of life itself. The laughter of a child, the giggle of a baby, even the cry of an infant—these are reminders of life’s sacred gift.
Recently, in a conversation with my counselor, I committed to setting aside time each day to be fully present in the moment.
When I hike, I focus on the wind, the light, the trees, the sound of the raven. When distracting thoughts arise, I let them pass. I take the same approach in prayer.
I invite you to watch a recent episode of Challenge 2.0 on the power of joy:
Grounded in Gratitude
The reason we care for our neighbors is rooted in gratitude and deep joy—not just for our own lives, but for the life we share.
Let’s find ways to cultivate that deep joy, not as a way to ignore the pain around us, but as the foundation for the work ahead.