What is My Role in This?
What is yours?
My husband drove me to the airport this morning, and after talking about his work then mine then how we’re feeling, and then inevitably moving into the last few weeks of America in Crisis, I told him, “I don’t know what my role is in this.” When Trump got elected, I knew I could not go down the same road I did in 2016. As my friend Ali told me on a phone call earlier today, “You were depressed.” I’m glad she named that. As I’ve written before, I am committed to limiting my news intake, decentralizing Trump (and now, Musk) from my attention, and giving my best to what is local— my husband, friends, church, neighborhood, city, and state.
Then yesterday I saw a 20-something Christian influencer share a podcast clip about dating advice. I looked at their page and went through the last two weeks of their feed. It was filled with lifestyle shots, merch advertisements, and dance reels. Part of me wants to sanitize my actual response to this to look more Christian, but honestly? I judged this person instantly. I thought, “What rock are you living under? Look around!”
Of course, my judgment made me feel righteous but falsely presumed someone’s online activity aligns with their action offline. Meaning, this person could absolutely be calling their representatives (or not) and never share about it on the Internet… and that is their right— they do not owe an explanation to Instagram. They could be having conversations with friends. They could be asking questions. Honestly, they could support this administration. I have no idea, but that’s the point. I have no idea and my judgment is my problem.
I sat with my boulder of judgment until it got smaller and smaller and I could finally see what was underneath it: fear, anger, and surprisingly? Purpose.
I feel fearful that those of us who are able-bodied, wealthy enough to pay our bills, and insulated from the most vulnerable in society will shrug at what is happening in Washington DC because it doesn’t affect us… yet. I feel fearful that we will allow our checks and balances to slip away, not realizing the gift we have in our imperfect democracy.
I feel angry at some people’s apathy. This vacillates back and forth with judgment, and if I have to guess, my anger is another boulder where fear sits underneath.
Last, I feel purpose. This is why the church exists. By church, of course, I do not mean a place but a people. And by “this” I do not mean that we exist to dominate American politics or culture. Rather, at least in this moment, we exist to create communities that shield the vulnerable and rehabilitate the proud into mutual love and respect. We exist to be peacemaking, loving agents in a world that is charged up with hate. We exist to uphold justice for those whose necks have been crushed beneath the boots of power.
This is going to look a million different ways. It is going to take a million acts of faith. A million words of courage. A million reminders to lead with humility, love, and gentleness even though our leaders currently exhibit the opposite behavior. A million choices to humanize, not dehumanize our neighbors, from the Confederate-flag-waving elderly man down the street to the tattooed, purple-haired barista at a coffee shop, to Elon Musk and Donald Trump. A million ways to speak truth in love.
Which brings me back to my original question: What is my role in this?
I encourage you to ask the same thing. I don’t have a tidy answer. But I do know that judgment won’t sustain me, fear won’t guide me well, and anger alone won’t build anything worth keeping. Purpose, though? Purpose has legs. Purpose moves us toward each other when everything in us wants to retreat. Purpose reminds me that while I may not be able to fix the world, I can be faithful to my corner of it. So I will keep showing up—for my people, for my city, for the fragile and the forgotten. I will keep paying attention. I will keep hoping that love, steady and stubborn, still gets the last word.
Sending love,
Savannah
Oooo, “purpose has legs.” I love that.
My wife and I were just discussing this question this morning, and one thing is certain: we strive to keep God at the center of our hearts and minds rather than presidents, billionaires, or anyone else for that matter. Celebrities, after all, thrive on dominating people's attention and often use outrageous stunts to do so. God's presence, on the other hand, is very often quiet and calm.
Do we then remain disconnected or callous where broader issues are concerned? No. Our first job is always to be a channel for love, light, and kindness to those with whom we cross paths, such as passersby in stores and such, rather than meeting them on the level of worry and despair. And then the moment someone needs to talk or process or otherwise interact with us more personally, we listen and empathize. And if we're called upon to take a more direct role in an issue (which does *not* mean merely complaining on social media), then we engage where we can do so meaningfully. Each person can do only so much, so we do have to choose those battles where we can be most effective.