I’m Trying To Find The Words To Speak In A Broken World

hand holding white flower

I feel…sad. Defeated. Frustrated. Empty. I’m really not sure how I feel. I walked out of church this morning, imagining that I’d push through those double doors and feel renewed. That all the indecision, the anxiety bubbling in my stomach would suddenly disappear. That I would have all the answers and the right words and the confidence to face the day. But I know church doesn’t work like that. God doesn’t provide on my terms. He isn’t just this magical being that makes everything perfect exactly how and when we want Him to. Despite our best human efforts, we still live in a broken world.

I left church, and I felt a mix of emotions. There’s been so much I’ve wanted to write for so long, but I haven’t yet found the words.

I’m struggling. I’m struggling to write about love and laughter and happiness and forgiveness when it seems those things are so trivial. I’m struggling to write about people I love and people I miss when some people are crying, feeling so unheard.

I want to write about politics. I want to write about the Muslim ban. I want to write about feminism and Donald Trump and new policies and all the positive and negative thoughts I have swirling around my brain. But honestly, I’m not sure how.

I think I’ve always had this stupid fear of what other people think. I’ve been afraid, in so many ways, to share my perspectives because I don’t want people to think less of me, to insult me or start a conflict with me. I know I’ve written about things that people don’t always agree with. I think I’ve seen that the most with my Christian writing—people are angry that I openly write about supporting my God.

And sometimes I let that get to me.

I make it a point to comment to people that spew angry thoughts and say, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but perhaps if you don’t agree, don’t read.” Just to sort of save myself from their anger, to cover up the fear and anxiousness I get when I read a comment from someone who just doesn’t agree with what I have to say.

But this, this is different. It’s more than that.

I’m struggling to find my voice because I feel disconnected. I feel like as a white woman of privilege, what can I say that will make a difference? Or what if my words are perceived in the wrong way – like I’m striving for attention rather than speaking with good intention?

Or what about all the things I’m still unsure about? I keep reading and reading and it’s making me sick because I can’t tell fact from fiction. I scroll through my Facebook timeline and see posts that look like news, but are biased in either direction. I see Trump supporters blinded to the truth. I see people against Trump blanket-sharing every single negative post they come across.

And sometimes I just have to take a step back and wonder why. Why is it so necessary to share these things? Are we really ‘informing’? Or just spreading more fear? But at the same time, is that wrong? Shouldn’t we scare more people into action? Shouldn’t we all be pushed, influenced, prodded, poked into a direction of change when so many people are affected? How do we help when our world feels so broken?

I’m trying to make sense of all the things I’m reading. I’m trying to understand why a president would create an order that goes against everything our country is founded upon. But I’m also trying to understand why people don’t want to protect our home soil from potential terrorism. But I’m also trying to understand why people think this ban is a good idea. Or why people think it’s okay to be blatantly racist. Because lumping all people of a certain religion/race/group/etc. together and saying they ‘all’ are a certain way – that’s WRONG.

But I’m also trying to understand what the solution is.
And I’m also trying to understand if there is a ‘wrong’ or ‘right.’

Because morally, how is it fair to be biased and racist and extremist?
But where, or when, do we draw the line when it comes to inclusivity?

I’ve been hesitant to write about politics because there’s still so much I don’t understand. Because it seems like anything that’s written is dissected, torn apart, and misconstrued, even if it has the best of intentions.

I know I need to find my voice and speak. I know I need to do more research. And I’m trying to. I’m engaging in discussion; I’m talking to people; I’m finding ways to navigate through fact and fiction and stand in support of what matters, even in this broken world.

I’m trying not to let my fear take control of my heart.

And I’m praying.

Because I know that I can’t find the words to say on my own. I can’t make sense of things I don’t understand without His help. And I can’t expect to step out of church and have all the answers. I just have to keep trusting in Him to guide me, guide our nation, guide our broken world.

So I’ll move forward. One day at a time. Praying to find my voice.