 At the onset of 2020, the world watched in horror as Australia burned. Videos of koalas being rescued lit up social media. And then 2020 happened, in all of its spectacular crappiness, and we forgot.
Only the damage we’ve caused our planet didn’t go away just because we were preoccupied. Anyone who can’t see that now, as the entire west coast of our country is on fire, isn’t looking. These fires are absolutely a product of deforestation and climate change, both a consequence of it and serving to escalate it. It’s not just a 24-hour news cycle making it more noticeable, the number of wildfires has grown and will only get worse. An intergovernmental panel on climate change said the scientific evidence for warming of the climate system is unequivocal. This is not a liberal or conservative debate. It’s not a US thing or a European thing. First world or third world problem. This is about survival of the human species. Earth will go on, even if it has to purge us to do it. The question is: Will we survive with it? I’m not being hyperbolic. The 2019-2020 Australian brush fire season cost 34 lives. Twenty-five have already been lost on the West coast this year, with officials bracing for mass fatalities. We’re facing the most active hurricane season in NOAA’s 22-year history. While there is much debate around the cause of COVID-19, studies show that climate change causes an increase in pandemics. With the COVID-19 worldwide death rate at 916,000 and counting, is that something we’re prepared to face on a regular basis? Respected scientists throughout the world point to a series of cascading tipping points in climate change — when one is breached, it acts like a set of dominoes, triggering others. Of the fifteen identified tipping points, seven are active and two are waking up. Not necessarily breached, but showing signs we are on the threshold of the point of no return. An awakening tipping point of particular concern is the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), a critical component of our ocean’s circulation system. It’s destabilizing, and scientists aren’t sure how long we have until we can’t do anything about it. (Think of the move The Day After Tomorrow.) There are a lot of things contributing to climate change. The way we produce energy, big agriculture, deforestation, transportation… but there’s one contributing source in particular I’ve become pretty much obsessed with in the last few months: plastic. From cradle to grave, plastic is pure poison to humans, to the environment, and to our climate. As convenient as the stuff is, the costs far outweigh the benefits. Did you know there are currently 150 metric tons of plastic in our oceans, with more than 8 million tons being added to it annually? Entire swaths of the ocean have become wastelands. Animals are dying. Ecosystems destroyed. The scariest part? That’s not the worst thing plastic is doing to us. Plastic rapes the environment at its creation, poisons the human body, and does not go away — at least not anytime soon. And, plastic adds to climate change at every single stage of its life cycle. Recycling, in its current state, is not the answer. We have a lot of hard work ahead of us before recycling is a viable part of the solution. We have got to get serious about just stopping with all the damned plastic. I say this completely surrounded by plastics. It’s been a process in our house. First identifying one product we can replace, then looking around to find the next. I know that all by myself, I can’t single-handedly stop the avalanche of plastics, but I can stop them in my home. And then maybe the people in my inner circle will get sick of hearing me talk about it and stop them in theirs. And then perhaps their friends will as well. I’ve been planning to start a zero waste series on my blog, reviewing the products I try in hopes of inspiring maybe even one of you to give it ago. Sadly, the first company I planned to review is currently shut down, having evacuated because of the wildfires. Hopefully, Silver Falls Sustainability Company will be up and running again soon so I can tell you how amazing their lip balm is. (Seriously, I haven’t liked a lip balm this much since rollerball lip potion was a thing in the '80s.) I recently told a friend that I think I’m becoming a hippie in my middle age. She said I always have been, I’m just leaning into it more. Having grown up in a deeply conservative family — I’m an Air Force brat with agricultural roots in the Midwest, for crying out loud — I don’t say any of the above lightly. I understand that much of the work necessary to put the brakes on climate change will be more than hard. But we’re reaching the point where it’s not optional. We can either start tackling these problems now or we can watch in horror as our entire society collapses and hundreds of thousands of people die. For those who’ve followed my work for any length of time, I hope it’s apparent how deeply my faith matters to me. It shapes my worldview and is a driving force in all I do. In Genesis 1:26-28, God created man and woman and gave them dominion over the earth. Too many see that as domination. As permission to do whatever they please to animals and the environment. I’ve always seen it as a sacred calling to care for the world He gave us. To lovingly tend the garden and the animals in it. I recently came across this article about The Meaning of Dominion that illustrates it so beautifully. In it, the author explains that if you look at the Hebrew phrase used there, it would be more appropriate to say: Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness, so they may exercise skilled mastery among [or, with respect to] the fish of the sea and among the birds of the air.” We have not exercised skilled mastery in our care of this beautiful planet we’ve been given. We haven’t, and we need to own it. And, sadly, our actions have consequences. Our lack of action does, too. Some of you will read this and think “right on,” then share it and forget it. Some will read it, be upset that my viewpoints don’t align with yours, and put down my books for good. It saddens me, but I know it’s a chance I take by speaking my mind. But my true and sincere hope is that you’ll read this and do a bit of your own research. Read the articles I linked to above. Talk to others. Look at what’s happening in the world around us and ask yourself, honestly, if it seems like a healthy, thriving planet to you. And, if you come to the conclusion that it’s not, examine what you can do to help. Not what the government can do, corporations should do, your neighbor should do. What can YOU do to help? Now go do it.
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 I have a weird Twitter handle. Nine years ago, when I was told by my new publisher to join Twitter, @HeatherHuffman was already taken. All of the obvious spinoffs were too long, and I am like a deer in headlights when it comes to choosing usernames. So, after weeks of trying to come up with a name/driving my family crazy, my sister suggested @Heathers_mark. (The underscore was so it wouldn’t read Heather Smark.) It seemed fitting and I was tired of thinking about it, so I went with it.
Aside from raising awareness for social justice issues like human trafficking and the failures of our current foster care system, a common theme in my novels is that we all have a unique mark to leave on this world. My tagline at the time was Leave Your Mark. It all evolved into graffiti parties instead of typical book launches. They were incredibly fun parties. The venue was a pub on Cherokee Street that was featured in several of the novels. Musician John Bartley, the inspiration behind the character Danny, played at them. Readers, friends, and family came from all over the country to launch my book babies in style. I hung giant painters canvas from the walls and everyone who attended signed or graffitied them. Those tarps went on book tours with me. They went to fundraisers to fight trafficking and liberate captives from North Korea. They went to school talks, where 8th graders learned about modern day slavery, internet safety, and activism. People of all ages from all over the country signed those tarps, acknowledging that they, too, had a mark to leave on this world. That time in my life — that campaign, those talks, those books — they are what I am most proud of (aside from my children). And then life changed and through a series of unfortunate events (and unfortunate choices) I was forced to set aside the words and the causes and return to corporate America because kids require things like warm shelter and food in their bellies. (Needy little buggers) And during the quiet years, life became less about leaving my mark and more about surviving and healing. It was a time of transition and pain and joy and growth and, ultimately, finding peace. During these silent years, I began to wonder if the mark I’d left was worth much at all. I gave talks about human trafficking to schools and women’s groups, but I’ve never had the impact of one sentence from Ashton Kutcher. The money I’d donated from book royalties was a joke compared to what he’d done. I began to feel silly. Useless. It was too big of a problem for me to handle and there were so many other injustices I wanted to tackle that I didn’t even know where to start. And then I got an email from a 70-year-old reader who said she’d learned about human trafficking through my books, so now she always keeps an eye out for it. This year marks a decade since Throwaway made its debut and I still regularly hear from readers who want me to know what the book meant to them. That is a rare and beautiful gift, and one I do not take lightly. The entire conversation with that reader is one I treasure on many levels, and I don’t think she’ll ever realize how timely it was for me. She reminded me that we don’t always know what kind of impact we’re having on other people, so we should keep doing what we know to be right even if we don’t see the results. Not long ago, I was discussing climate change with my son and we were debating whether the responsibility for change lies with the individual or with corporations. I argued that while corporations certainly have the ability to make a greater impact, there are 7 billion people in the world. Surely if each of those 7 billion people did one little thing to help the climate, the cumulative effect would be great. Fast forward a month, and stories began to hit social media of the reduction in pollution thanks to quarantine. Whether we intend them or not, our actions have impact. The ripple caused by our choices touches others, and we have no way of knowing how far it reaches. Not really. I am realizing I got it wrong ten years ago when I encouraged people to leave their mark. Because we will all leave a mark of some sort on this world. It’s up to us to decide what that mark will be, for better or for worse. Rather than #leaveyourmark, I think the appropriate hashtag is #chooseyourmark. There is so much about our world right now that breaks my heart. I can’t begin to know how to fix any of it. I know cognitively that control is only an illusion, we never really have it, but my life feels especially out of my control at the moment. If I can’t begin to know how to fix my problems, those of the world at large most definitely elude me. So, I’ve decided to tackle the little things I can fix. I’m making a concerted effort to be kind to those around me — my children, my coworkers, the clerk at the grocery store… pretty much anyone I encounter. I ordered laundry strips and am switching our soap products to reduce the amount of plastic my family adds to the landfills. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a start. And, being totally transparent, the nice thing really is taking a bit of effort at the moment. I can’t say if I will ever have any kind of grand impact on this world. Hell, I’m almost 43 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I have failed abysmally at choosing a life partner, I fumble my way through parenting, and most days I struggle to free the words trapped inside me. But I can do little things to make the world around me brighter. I can encourage my children as they find their own path. Inch by inch, I can do my part to leave this world better for my having been in it. Right now, the world needs all the brightness it can get, so I encourage each of you to look around you for the opportunities to make it better. I want to hear from you - what is your mark? What’s the thing you give the world to make it a better place? I promise you have something you’re capable of doing, whatever your circumstance. Share it with me and use the hashtag #chooseyourmark if you’re on social media. The world is filled with an awful lot of darkness right now. Let’s see if we can shine a light together to make it a bit brighter.  I have an addiction. It’s nothing as seedy or interesting as drugs, alcohol, or sex. It’s DragonVale, a game I loaded on my phone sometime in April. My boys suggested it because they know what I sucker I was for Zoo Tycoon and Farmville. They weren’t wrong — I love that goofy game. Perhaps a bit too much.
As soon as I loaded it, I began racing through the levels. I can spend hours arranging and rearranging my islands. I have a spreadsheet to keep track of my dragons and the right breeding combinations for dragons I want. Yes, a spreadsheet. Like I said, I have issues. It’s understandable. There is so much about my world I can’t control. My health, my job, the global pandemic. I can’t seem to get traction on any of my goals — thanks to the big three mentioned above. But in DragonVale, I can actually achieve things. I reach goals. And the dragons are cute. Seems harmless enough. But as I fall further behind on the million-and-one things I could or should be doing because I’m tapping my phone screen, a passage comes to mind. In it, one demon is teaching another how to keep man from living his purpose. “As the uneasiness and reluctance to face it cut him off more and more from all real happiness, and as habit renders the pleasures the vanity and excitement and flippancy at once less pleasant and harder to forgo...you will find that anything or nothing is sufficient to attract his wandering attention. You no longer need a good book, which he really likes, to keep him from his prayers or his work or his sleep; a column of advertisements in yesterday's paper will do. You can make him waste his time not only in conversation he enjoys with people whom he likes, but also in conversations with those he cares nothing about, on subjects that bore him. You can make him do nothing at all for long periods. You can keep him up late at night, not roistering, but staring at a dead fire in a cold room. All the healthy and outgoing activities which we want him to avoid can be inhibited and nothing given in return, so that at last he may say...'I now see that I spent most my life doing in doing neither what I ought nor what I liked.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters We live in a world of dead fires: social media, streaming services, dating sites, video games… this list goes on. None of these things are bad in and of themselves, but they’re dangerous nonetheless. It’s all-too-easy to get sucked into them and lose days, weeks, months. We get hooked on these sites thanks to the dopamine hit they give, and the effect is that we are literally rewiring our brains. They impact our peace, relationships, and ability to find contentment. These are all reasons I generally stay off social media, I left dating sites, and (pre-covid) limit myself to one television show in the evening. Stuck in my house and too sick to do much else, I kinda left the one show rule in the dust. But it wasn’t until Dragonvale got its hooks in me that I found myself staring into a dead fire when I should be writing. Now that I've recognized the problem, I’m going to try limiting myself, seeing if I can have the restraint to only check in a couple times a day and for up to half an hour a time. Because the goofy game really does seem to help me deal with all the rest. But I suspect that, like most addictions, I’m eventually going to have to quit cold turkey because the benefits aren’t worth the cost. For me, it’s DragonVale. For someone else I love, it’s checking news sites. For another, it’s SnapChat streaks. The world is littered with dead fires. And I can’t help but wonder what we could do if we stopped staring into nothingness.  Right now, the Internet is awash with extroverts climbing the walls amidst social distancing. My poor sisters are jonesing for people. Per usual, I feel like a bit of an oddball because, in many ways, I think I’m less lonely here in the heart of isolation.
Being a single mom is a lonely gig. I often find myself on the outside of the acceptable groups, a bit adrift from the rest of humanity. I don’t get invited to social functions that are largely for couples. I work too many hours to be deeply involved in parent groups at the boys’ school. I’ve never been much of a bar hopper, but I’m especially not now that I’m solidly in my 40s. Usually, I’m working full-time outside the house and trying to juggle everyone’s competing activity schedules, so I'm too busy to notice it as much, but it also keeps me too busy to reach out to make connections with people. I join things like Meet-Ups, trying to find groups of like-minded people, but I’m invariably too broke and too tired to attend the events. The truth is, I have friends - wonderful friends - who have their own spouses and children and lives. We are all just so terribly, painfully busy these days. Pretty much overnight, Covid cleared my calendar, along with the rest of the world’s. But we humans are social creatures; we didn’t let it stop us for long. There have been a lot of things I’ve seen in the past month that have left me scratching my head, wondering if I will ever understand humanity. But there have been many beautiful moments of people reaching out and finding ways to connect and support one another as we get through this period of isolation together. Almost immediately, I was added to a local group galvanizing as a community to keep people informed and help people find the resources they needed. Then other Facebook groups like Heart Hunters and What Do You See From Your Window? #StayAtHome popped up, creating a sense of solidarity with others practicing social distancing around the globe. My family started game nights via Zoom and the HouseParty App, and I saw nieces and nephews I haven’t seen in years because we’re scattered across the country. Patrick Stewart started reading us A Sonnet a Day. John Krasinski started sharing Some Good News, even hosting a prom for 2020 seniors. Every morning for the past week, I’ve tuned in to Travis Linville’s live stream along with others from around the world, forming what’s been dubbed “the morning crew.” When a Final Fantasy gamer died of COVID-19, the community honored her with an online funeral procession in what was truly a beautiful moment. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, except to say that this week has been unsettling for me with all of the strife over when and how to end social distancing. I have opinions on the subject, but they’re just that, opinions. I’m not a scientist and what I think really doesn’t matter. I’ll go back to my office when I’m told to because I have kids to feed. BUT, whenever I start to get too upset by the venom people are spewing at each other because they feel out of control in this crazy situation, I stop and think about all of the stuff above. I think about all of the people who reached out to check on me and the boys. I think about the store manager at work who created a giant sign that read "We will be okay" in the fence at one of our Iowa locations. I think about the way the entire world, or at least a good portion of it, pressed the pause button and joined together for even this one moment. As with all things, I’m inching my way through this crisis, hopeful yet pragmatic. Thankful for where I am in this particular moment but aware that circumstances change. Mindful of those around me who are suffering. Wherever you are tonight, I hope you are well, and I hope you’ve found a tribe to weather this storm with. And if you need a friend, I'm just an email or message away.  Ya’ll, I’m not going to sugar coat it: I have a crush. After the damage the last couple of guys did to my heart and ego, I’d begun to resign myself to being an asexual romance writer, so it feels like a wondrous thing to have a schoolgirl crush, even if it’s on a man I’ve never met. One of my favorite things about living in Buffalo was the Old Home Place Concert Series. So when they took this month’s concert online because of Covid-19, I was pretty excited about attending. Eight musicians sang two songs each from their home. One was friend and favorite musician Lyal Strickland, but the other seven were new to me, including Travis Linville. If there is a Mrs. Linville, I will apologize now but that man is adorable and I have been listening to his music pretty much non-stop since Thursday night. I’m fairly certain I need to meet him in person when the world resumes. I watched Miss Austen Regrets this week - it struck a chord with me on so many levels. I know my inability to finish a novel these past few years is as tied to my regrets as it is to my busyness. The movie, the music, the COVID-inspired isolation, it all seems to be converging to help me embrace where I am in life, who I am. Whether it’s to my benefit or detriment, I can’t say, but I’m a romantic. I am a writer. (I also miss my farm. I miss my chickens and goats and long walks in the woods with my dogs, but that’s for another day.) Since I was a teenager, I relegated my novels to hobby because I needed to do something “practical.” I am not a practical person and I am making myself miserable trying to be. I’m an observer and a dreamer and I’m happiest when I let the words tumble from my brain onto the page. I think it’s time I own that, fully, and actively work toward putting it back in the center of my world. When my kids were growing up, I relegated my desire for romantic love to my books because my children were my world. They needed me to focus on them. When they were old enough for me to try to find my person, the antics that ensued were worthy of a novel - a bit comedy, a bit tragedy. (That book is coming, eventually.) But, not gonna lie, I think the endeavor nearly broke me. He nearly broke me. I’ve done a lot of healing these past months. A lot of thinking. A bit of writing. The ideas are back now. I’m dreaming books again. I wake up and furiously write down everything I can remember so it’s there when I need a new book idea. I have three nearly-finished novels that I’ve painstakingly chipped away at FOR YEARS. So naturally, when I dreamed the inspiration for Violet Sky, I set them aside and dove head first into it. At the moment, I am completely and utterly in love with the characters in this book. They’re in my head all the time. I enjoy thinking about them, who they are, what their story is. As non-sequitur as it seems, stumbling across Travis Linville’s music feels like it’s all oddly a part of whatever transformation is happening to me right now. So I am going to wake up early on a Saturday morning to catch his 8 am Facebook Live because--seriously--dude’s adorable. And then I’m going to spend the day listening to his music on Spotify while I immerse myself in the world I’m creating with Violet Sky, and I’m going to enjoy the writing process. I’m not going to worry about word counts or publication schedules or any of the myriad of practical things I could or should worry about. I’m simply going to be a girl who owns her regrets, smiles a bit over having a crush at 42, and is happiest surrounded by the words tumbling out of her brain.  I try to stay away from anything political or negative, there is enough of that in the world. But the conversation in the United States yesterday upset me so much I couldn’t help posting an article on Facebook with a quote from Bill Gates saying we can’t ignore the stack of bodies in the corner to restart our economy.
With my post, I said this: I do not in any way diminish the cost of this pandemic to families, but I don't think we can put a dollar amount on lives. This isn't about old or young, every life is precious and this virus is killing people of all ages. The sooner we take it seriously, the sooner we can overcome and build a new normal. I am sickened by the politicians suggesting people willingly sacrifice their lives to save the economy and the stories of pharma companies poised to exploit loopholes to profit from death. Times like these reveal character. Theirs and ours, for better or for worse. One person in particular posted multiple comments disagreeing with me, saying his father lived through the Great Depression and we definitely don’t want that. He sited riots in the streets in other countries over the hit their economy is taking with the virus and said this isn’t the time for hating Trump. To vote in November and respect the results. There was an air of condescension in his posts - the impression that I just didn’t understand what it was to do without, so my suggestion that people matter was done in ignorance. I typed up a response. A long one. But the reality is, my sister spoke to each of his points better than I could have, so I decided to take my response and use it as a basis for a post here. I’m sure some of my readers will walk away from me after this, and while that makes me sad because I treasure each of you, what’s the point of having a voice if you don’t use it? This is the time for people to speak up - loudly - for what is right. It is a time for us to band together to get through this. To set aside differences and remember that we are stronger together, and whatever storms come our way, we will weather them if we cling to hope and love. I may not have lived through the Great Depression, but my children and I have known incredible hardship. We’ve lost every single thing we’ve owned. Been homeless. Been hungry. Lived in places so cold we would freeze to death if I fell asleep and didn’t stoke the fire on time. We are in a very brief period of comfort in our lives. The only one that’s been truly peaceful because there is no abuse to navigate. I do not take the crash of our economy lightly. And yes, I hate Trump, but his words weren’t the one that sparked my post. It was the Lt Gov of Texas, actually. And yes, now is absolutely the time to call out the complete leadership vacuum at the federal level. We need to remember this moment when we vote in November - those who are left alive to vote, that is. We do not get an easy choice here. If we are flip with human lives to save our economy, enough people will die that it will most assuredly still impact our economy. In my county, the largest number of cases are 20 - 30 year olds. This disease will not just wipe out seniors. It will take our workforce, too. Think of the expense of a million or more insurance policies being paid out. Family breadwinners gone. Our workforce depleted. I am a single mother. If I don’t put a roof over my children’s head, they don’t have one. If I don’t feed them, they don’t eat. If restrictions are lifted, my employer will absolutely want me back in the office even though my job can easily be done from home. I am immune compromised. I will catch it if that’s not what I’m already dealing with at the moment. I catch everything these days. My fear is not for myself but for my 20-year-old asthmatic son. Is my 16-year-old with the blood disorder also high risk? Probably. I am all for people returning to work as soon as is safely possible, but nothing I’ve heard from our federal government gives me any reassurance our safety is at all on his mind. We need testing. We need to understand how widespread this is and who has immunity before we can have the conversation about returning to work. We need to be gearing up for what is about to hit our hospitals. We had the gift of knowing what was coming and we squandered it. It’s time for our leadership to step up and be leaders. Since I am lucky enough to be working from home, as long as I have income, I will do my part to help those around me who need it. We will have to band together to survive this. But we can survive it if we don’t start acting like inhumane fools at the very start of this crisis. We are better than this, or we can be if we choose to be. COVID-19 will cost this world much and in many ways. We can’t let it take our humanity, too.  I love old Bibles. There is something very intimate about reading them and seeing what’s been highlighted, the notes in the margin. When I read a Bible from those who came before me, I feel I know them better. Last week, I was reading a King James Bible from 1964, and one passage in particular struck me. They’d changed one word. One simple word, and the effect was so powerful that it weighs heavy on my heart even now, a week after I’ve read the passage. Dear readers, whether you are a christian or not, whatever your faith, please read on with an open heart. It’s a common passage, a favorite at weddings. Here it is in the NIV version: If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13 (NIV) Now here it is, King James style. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. 1 Corinthians 13 (KJV) Don’t get me wrong - the passage is beautiful as it’s commonly known. But I think the use of the word charity is pivotal to understanding love. The definition of charity in this context is “kindness and tolerance in judging others.” It doesn’t matter what we do, what wisdom we think we hold, the acts of “charity” we perform, if we do not show kindness and tolerance in judging others, we are a sounding brass, a resounding gong, a clanging cymbal. Imagine the chaos of a middle school brass band. That’s a pretty good visual for modern day Christianity on Facebook. For some reason, I felt compelled to read the book of Amos last week. I couldn’t fathom why. I tried to ignore the urge as I sat down, intending to re-read the book of Romans. But I literally opened my Bible directly to Amos chapter 1. It felt like God really wanted me to read Amos, so I did. And when I got to Amos 5:23-24, I knew why: Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream! As I thumbed through my Bible some more, I came to James 1:27: Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. And then I thought of Micah 6:8: He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. There are nuances in the Bible, things that we could spend our entire lives searching out and not know the answer to on this side of eternity. But in some things, God is abundantly clear. In Matthew 28:19, we’re given what is known as the great commission. We’re not told to elect a particular candidate or further a cause on Facebook, we’re told, “Go and make disciples of all nations…” When asked what the greatest commandment is, Jesus was incredibly clear: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. (Matthew 22:37-40) I’ve had these words bumping around my brain for the past week, intending to write them and never quite getting around to it because I was sidetracked with life and pandemics and such. But then, this morning, my sister posted a well-reasoned article. She even said she rarely talked politics on Facebook because it never went well, but thought the article was worth the read. Her commentary was reasonable. Two non-Christians debated with her on a political level, one with more intellect than the other, but still civil. And then came the woman wrapped in piousness, spewing hate and vitriol as she viciously attacked my sister, repeatedly. It reminded me of a viper from a horror film, striking again and again without remorse or mercy. There was such hate and ignorance spilling from this woman’s mouth that I was literally shaking with rage. This woman said these things in the name of Jesus. Just because someone invokes the name of Jesus in their argument does not mean they do so with his approval. “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven. Many will say to Me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!’ Matthew 7:21-23 (NKJV) To my non-Christian friends who see this kind of behavior running rampant, please hear me: the hate these people spew is not of God. It is not of Christ. I love God. I follow Christ, but I do not condone the actions of others who claim to do the same. I have read the Bible in its entirety multiple times and nowhere in it do I see words that condone this type of behavior. For my christian friends: it is vitally important that we remember we are what people see of Christ. If we choose to bear his name, we must also bear his witness. The words from our mouths and from our fingertips will draw people to his light and love or they will turn them away. If we do not embrace love, mercy, justice - charity, we will not only fail in the great commission, we will keep others from seeking God, let alone ever finding him. If we believe what we say we do - that sentence should hold serious weight. And for every Christian out there who is saddened by the vitriol spewed by the modern Western church, speak up. Speak truth. Speak love. The world so desperately needs both. |
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