It’s been more than a month since I posted, but not for lack of words. I have so much to say, but it all feels trite or pointless. Between BlueSky, Facebook, Substack, TicTok, the New York Times, YouTube, NPR, and every other form of media out there, I don’t know what I can add to the discourse that won’t immediately get devoured by the chaos.

And yet, I must speak.

I don’t know how to combat the incredible racism I see in the comments on social media, in Congress, in the Cabinet, and in the White House.

I feel like everything I say is just preaching to the choir. Those who want to hear the message will stay and listen, those who don’t will walk away and find a way to dismiss my words. None of us can force another to hear a message they don’t want to hear.

We can’t make someone change their behavior if they aren’t interested, even if it hurts others.
We can’t force hardened hearts to soften.

We can’t make people who hold racist, homophobic, and transphobic ideas practice the love Jesus spoke of, even if they warm a bench in God’s house on Sunday mornings.

These realities make me want to hang my head in defeat and surrender.

And yet.

Just because we can’t make others open their eyes, ears, and hearts doesn’t mean we should stop shining our light and planting seeds where we can.

Just because some refuse to hear doesn’t mean we should stop speaking the truth for as long as we have breath in our chests.

Just because some practice hate and division doesn’t mean we should stop showing love and working for unity in our daily lives.

Even if we feel only the choir hears our voice, we shouldn’t stop talking. Even the choir needs to hear a message they can relate to. Even the choir needs their faith fed regularly so they don’t forget their way.

Even the choir needs to remember why they show up and sing.

And maybe, as the choir sings, others will trickle in to hear the music and have their hearts softened, even a little.