Living With Compassion in Troubling Times

From Monica Sweeney 


You know… I’ve been praying this morning about some things. I see a lot of stuff on social media that’s coming from Christians. Stuff that I agree with the content but the method of communication feels abrasive. Maybe I’m sensitive to views being shoved down people’s throats after all we’ve been through recently.


But I think it’s more than that. I think it’s how different people are called to walk out their faith. For a long time now I’ve felt like I’m called to walk with individuals. Not shout at the masses. I think both have their place. And I think it’s easy to look and criticize the way the other does it.


But when I stop and think about the body of Christ, I remember that we all function differently. I’m not called to carry a bullhorn. I’m called to carry a cup of coffee and compassion.


I hate abortion. But I walk softly because I know people who have had them.


I hate mental illness. I think it’s a cancer from the pit of hell. But to say that from an impersonal public platform is insensitive and it can cause those suffering to hide in shame. I want people to feel safe like they can talk to me.


I hate the virus and this mask. I think it’s all ridiculous and blown out of proportion.


But people I love are legitimately scared and affected differently. And some of them are afraid to share that bc they may be labeled as having no faith. I want to be able to help people process their anxieties and if wearing a mask helps me to do that then I see it as a key, not a lock.


I’ll know when it’s crossed over to bowing to an earthly king. And when that time comes I won’t bow. Throw me in the furnace.


But until that time comes I’m going to make myself available to the scared and hurting.


I’m grateful for those who are shouting on their bullhorns from the town square. The message needs to be heard. There IS manipulation taking place and it is alarming. And people do need to have their eyes opened.


But that’s not what I’M called to do.  I see the narrative. But I’m called to walk with people.


I’m a Barnabas. I’m not a Jonah.