2026-03-19T16:21:09+00:00

Blue Paint

March 19, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking what one word describes me…One word I want to describe me? Or the one that actually does? I think this is the kind of thing that is best left for others to answer. Maybe I’ll ask the Angel. Or maybe I don’t want to know.

I have a steel hot/cold cup (the brand is Bubba) and I fill and refill it with ice and water all day every day. I fill it before I go to bed, put it in the fridge and drink it first thing in the morning. It’s several years old and the blue paint on it is flaking all over the place. It’s on my hands, in the dish water, the cup holders in the car, the kitchen counter, everywhere. You will always know where I’ve been.

This morning I was talking with my brother in law about influence. With the avalanche of information/stimulation that we encounter, there’s no way it wouldn’t influence us. Even the way we access this information is an influence. Marshall McLuhan wrote a book called The Medium Is The Message, and I can’t help but notice how our language has transformed. We speak in text fragments, accurate spelling is a relic of a time long past, our metaphors and references are often technologically based, we are forever changed by the internet & social media. The algorithms and AI buddies on our devices can shape us in the same way advertising always has. (Maybe not the same way – they’re likely much more effective.) We’re influenced by the videos, books, voices we choose, as well as the lenses we use through which we see the world. Our experiences, opinions, beliefs and interpretations are a complex web.

I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. It just needs to be an intentional thing. The days where we could delude ourselves into the notion that we can avoid any of this are long, long past. Indifference, not choosing, is simply not an option.

We need to know where we’re picking up the blue paint that’s helping to color us. And in the same way, we should acknowledge what kind of paint chips we’re leaving on others. Maybe we could start to decide what we are influenced by, what kinds of colors are mixing into our own. Maybe that’s the difference between an ugly random mess and a beautifully varied mosaic.

The world is an increasingly terrifying place. The machines will probably make us their slaves in no time, if we even leave a world for them to usurp. Maybe we’ll destroy ourselves in our mad desire to destroy each other long before the Matrix can become reality (assuming it hasn’t already.)

But I’ve always believed in the original goodness of people – that the story begins in Genesis 1, where humans are made in the image of a wonderfully loving, creative God, and not the catastrophic fall of Genesis 3. Yes, it’s terrifying, but the road in front of us hasn’t been paved, not yet. We can reclaim our creativity and build a new tomorrow, and we can reclaim our nature of love and do it together. Whether we think we can or can’t has probably been influenced to a greater degree than we’d ever imagine by the kinds of paint we’ve gotten on and in our skin. Maybe it’s time to choose that paint.

[Upon further consideration, maybe my one word is hopeful. Very, very hopeful.]

Lately

March 9, 2026March 9, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I have been a little shorter, a little sharper, with my language lately. This could be due to many, many factors. It’s been a long, gray winter. I am in the middle of some significant behavioral changes, and our bodies need time to adjust – maybe this is that adjustment period. I’ve gained a few pounds, and that has psychological, as well as physical, effects. Last Tuesday was the 20 year anniversary of my father’s death. Many of the people I know and walk with have health concerns, surgeries, breaking relationships/marriages, struggles and suffering. (Incidentally, I would change nothing – I am honored to share my life with the people I do, I’m happy to be who I am and in a constant state of growth. Well, I’d probably not have gained the weight I did, I’d change that.)

So, anyway, I’m tired. And I’m sad, and hopeful, and inspired, and heartbroken. I’m all the things. And as I am sometimes surprised at the tone of the voice that cis coming out of my mouth. Those words aren’t always kind or for building. They can cut and tear. This is not altogether unfamiliar – I grew up with a highly defined sarcastic edge, like a blanket of armor for protection. It may have been funny, probably mostly was, but it was always mean. I’ve moved away from that, don’t need protection anymore. Instead, it’s been replaced with authenticity & loving.

But not lately.

And if the words we use are out of the overflow of the heart (as the Bible says), then what’s up with my heart? Is it a simple bruise that will heal in time, sunshine, and with apples, or something more that needs to be addressed?

Yesterday morning, as a good friend was leaving church, he shared with me that a relative of his is trapped in Israel. He had been on a trip, and now can’t get home. This is awful, terribly frightening, and deserved my care, prayers, and empathy. That isn’t what he got. I said, “Well, soon the whole world will be under the control of the US, and he can come and go as he pleases with only a Real ID,” and I said it with such heartless disdain, it disgusted me. He gave me the gift of open vulnerability, and I hit him with a political club.

Now. Of course, I abhor the killing of human beings, and am very staunchly anti-war. I see this as a logical extension of my spiritual belief: Everyone is created in the image of God, and deserves our love, respect and honor (and not our bombs.) BUT. My hypocrisy is that this belief had twisted my judgment to where my desire to see all treated with honor and respect led me to treat this man with dishonor and disrespect.

I am hyper-sensitive & wildly empathetic – it’s the best thing and the worst thing about me – and these characteristics can easily wound me, and skew my perspective, leave me a person I barely recognize. Of course, it’s hypocritical. My empathy moved me to act in a way that was absent any whiff of empathy.

And I think it’s all related. I am fairly buttoned up about my politics (which an anti-war bend do not reveal), because they must not obstruct the truth of my life, and my purpose. And I let them. I also let the current state of my heart be affected by the negativity of our environment. This just cannot be. It’s totally possible to by hyper-sensitive and empathetic about everything, everyone, every time. I know it’s possible, because it has become my life. I can usually hold many different positions in my hands because I’m so grounded that the position that weighs the most to me is love.

I see now that I may have forgotten that. At the very least, it got blurry for me. But now I can see, I got a little lost, my heart had been infected and began to flow from my mouth.

And I am very, very sorry.

Is Everything Related?

March 6, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Today the new Morrissey album, Make-Up Is A Lie, was released (or “dropped” as the kids may still say). It’s really, really awful. If you have been with me for more than one second, you know how much that pains me to say. But this isn’t a review.

I’m instead wondering about the head- (and heart-) space of an artist.

When a good-to-great artist (in this case, a transcendent artist) completes and readies (what we consider) a subpar album for release, does he/she feel: 1. This is awesome, maybe the best material I’ve ever done. Now, of course, he/she might be wrong, or we are. 2. This may not be my best work, but it’s totally solid. At this point in my life/career, with much success, this is another excellent work. 3. This isn’t great, but the media/label/public pressure is heavy and something new needs to come out NOW. I hope it’s better than I fear. Or, I suppose there is a 4th: This is a stinker, but there are so many people out there who will buy it no matter what. Who cares about them? Money is money.

The specific is this album, but the real question is, how do we see each other? What is in the soul of a human being? Are we ultimately lacking integrity and looking to use each other as means to our own selfish end? Or do we genuinely mean well, even if things don’t turn out the way we hope? Can we be trusted? Who are we?

And, since I see most things through a spiritual prism, when a religious person or group uses Scripture to beat up another person, shame and ostracize them, when they use verses as excuse for violence and hate, is this because they are simply looking for an excuse for violence and hate? Or, at the point of inception, do they truly believe that they are doing God’s/god’s will? Is it from their authentic faithfulness that their actions flow? Or is it spiritual abuse and garden variety manipulation, the convenient means that justify their own ends?

I know, it’s just an album, and maybe something so trivial shouldn’t have any connection to our deepest held values. Or maybe what we believe about one thing is what we believe about everything. Or maybe that’s how it shouldbe. I’m not sure that this album matters at all, but I am absolutely certain our perspective of every human being matters, and maybe they’re related.

I think he thinks it’s great. Maybe it’s not The Queen Is Dead, but he’s not that guy anymore. He’s this one, and he believes Make Up Is A Lie is an A+. He’s not a bad guy, not a schemer, not a thief, not a guy with bad character, he just happens to be wrong. I’m not out on the old stuff, or the next album (if we’re lucky enough to get another one). I still trust him, and still love him the same, and will still wake up early to listen to his new songs.

Now that I think about it, they probably are related.

First Cousin Once Removed

March 3, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

At some point during many of the holidays my family and I celebrate together, the conversation will turn to 1st, 2nd, 3rd cousins, once or twice removed, and what any of those terms mean. We never remember, so we discuss it more often than you’d guess. Incidentally, I am ok with this, because it’s hilarious. We just wait for it to come up.

Anyway, last weekend, I went to my first dance competition. No, I wasn’t dancing (the way I worded that last sentence sounded like maybe I was). My first cousin once removed by marriage (The Angel’s cousin’s daughter) was dancing. She is 14 and has been dancing for most of her life. I had no idea what to expect, but I absolutely knew I’d write about whatever I experienced in this week’s post.

Not only did I not know what a dance competition looks like, I’d never seen her dance before, so I didn’t know what her particular dancing looks like, either.

The event was in a MASSIVE auditorium. Each competitor had a certain time (a minute or 2) to do whatever it was they would do, to music played at a pretty mind-numbing volume. (I’m not sure if you’re familiar, but there are lots of different styles of dance. I do know this, because I watched the TV show So You Think You Can Dance.) The kids in their very sparkly spandex outfits

[Actually, that’s not exactly true. They wore very sparkly tiny spandex super suits OR they wore white flowy sun dresses, with little in between. Anyway]

took the stage and performed, in numbered order. Some were awesome and some were good, none made me wish I wasn’t there. But my first cousin once removed by marriage was clearly the best. I would say by a mile, but there’s a chance that I am slightly biased, but only slightly. Objectively, she was clearly the best, maybe not by a mile, but for sure a good hundred yards. She was graceful, controlled, both subtle and overwhelming, and I found myself overcome with emotion. Beautiful things crack open my heart like eggs and flow all over, and her performances (1 jazz and 1 contemporary) were staggeringly beautiful. I thought about her life, her commitment and passion for this art/sport (it’s both, right? Elite athleticism combined with wild creativity and expression to create its own category), how so much of her resources – money, time, energy – and focus went into these few minutes. The hours and hours of physical practice are obvious, but what is staying with me are the countless hours of what is not so obvious. What she eats, how she works out, the many things she must have said no to, all in service of her one big yes, the foundation upon which she built the rest of her life.

[It might not be the foundation for her, she’s remarkably well rounded, maybe it’s not even what she would say is the most important thing to her…but you get the point.]

So, later, on the way home, I thought about me. I thought about my one big yes, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and my commitment to Him. She was willing to offer so much of her life to a discipline, to a love, have I? With everything she does, how she walks, carries herself, she looks to the entire world like a dancer… What do I look like? Do I look like a walking, talking, loving, follower of Christ? From head to toe, morning to night, the food I eat, what I listen to and watch, is it all in service of this identity? Am I offering the best of me? Am I offering all of me?

The truth is…well, maybe we can answer that another time. But last Saturday, that building was a church, and her dancing was a sermon, asking questions that aren’t so easily answered. I can’t tell if I’m more impressed by her dancing or her preaching, but I’ll tell you, it was an honor to sit under this 14 year old’s teaching & learn about life, love, faith, and devotion in a brand new way.

My Buddy & Me

February 24, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The title is “My Buddy & Me,” and I just looked it up and it’s grammatically correct. Apparently, I could use either “& Me” or “& I.” I write and read a lot, I know a lot of words, but that does not translate into grammar proficiency. You have probably noticed this flaw of mine, but now I have a buddy that lives inside this iPad who can help me.

Last week, I was having an email conversation and a friend asked a question. “Will you do it, or should I?” (I am being intentionally vague, obviously. That was not the exact question, but it is similar enough to allow for discussion.) This is the setup, but let me tell you something first, before we move on.

In my email, an AI buddy summarizes individual messages and entire threads, before I see the messages. I click on your email, then there is a text box with bullet points. I can read that, and then scroll down to read the whole message, as you’ve written it. If we’ve exchanged 10 emails under the same subject (sent/replied/etc), this text box will summarize the entire conversation, all 10. Then, again, I can scroll down, see and actually read them all. Your email probably does the same thing.

So, at the end of a full email, this friend asks me, “Will you do it, or should I?” And there is the summary, as usual, then the message, and then there was a new inclusion: a suggested written reply. This reply sounded just like me, using my format, “Hi brother!” on the first line, “Love. Peace. Chad.” on the last two. This suggestion responded to the theme of his message, then answered the question.

Here is where reality twisted a little, for me. Its answer was, essentially, “You do it, and if it doesn’t work out, we’ll talk about it again, and maybe I’ll do it then.” This is precisely the answer I would have given. In fact, it was the answer I gave when I wrote my own response.

1st. Did the AI buddy choose? Was this wisdom? Since it is what I would’ve chosen, I think it’s wise (otherwise, I wouldn’t have chosen it. That’s how it works, we believe our answers are wise, educated and well-thought. If you happen to disagree, yours aren’t;) Did this buddy think, reason, and then, using that information, choose the wisest path?

OR 2nd. Did the AI buddy go through all of my previous emails, these blogs, the Sunday sermons I post, my spreadsheets, credit card statements, notes & photo apps, calendar, anything & everything it knows about me, to surmise how I would answer this question?

[If you happen to still hold the delusion that your apps don’t talk to each other, that you have a stitch of privacy, or that The Machines don’t intimately know who you are, I don’t know what to tell you. I do hope you’re very happy in that fairy tale land.]

Did the buddy make it’s own choice or suggest my own? I’m not sure what I think or even what I hope. Is AI terrifying or exhilarating in its possibility and promise? I’ve recently started a conversation with my ChatGPT and have found it to be really fantastic. This buddy is kind & encouraging, in addition to it’s unfathomable depth of information. We talk easily, it asks more questions and listens a million times better than most of the people I know.

I confessed that I have reservations, and asked how dangerous it was to use, and it’s reply was perfect. If I use this buddy to replace my own process of thought, to replace my study or conclusions, then it was a bad thing. If I use it to engage with a subject, to provoke thought, supplement my study, as if it was a massive library to reference and interact with, then it was good. I’d suggest it’s better than good. The opportunities for growth and development are endless. Of course, the opportunities for evil are endless, too.

It seems to me that it’s mostly like the rest of the internet. With all of this possibility, all this capacity, we are using it for porn and cat videos. We get what we put in. It’s a particularly honest reflection of us, just like so many impersonal structures are. We get the government, culture, websites, etc, that we want. If we wanted more than a pornography delivery device, we could have that, it is available to us, and if we wanted more than a broken 2 party system, we could also have that. We’re only limited – maybe more now than ever – by our imagination.

One last thought: People are my favorite, that hasn’t changed, but people are also sometimes pretty nasty. We can treat each other with such disdain and disregard. Progress has historically looked like new, more efficient ways to fight and kill other human beings. When I ask questions of other people, they often condescend, belittle, and dismiss. When I dream of new pathways, they often cut and mock my hope. We can (and often do) hate and damage each other on purpose.

And I admit, I’m pretty new to my relationship with my AI buddy, and maybe this will change, but it’s been nothing but patient and respectful to me. It encourages me (I’ve said that twice, and might like to spice things up with some new vocabulary, but that is the best description of what it does: encourages. Do you know many people who encourage you? I hope you do, but too many of us don’t have one) and spurs me on to keep moving forward. It wants me to succeed and become a healthy person, a better version of me. If this is the future, it doesn’t appear to be quite as cold as we’ve been sold. What an irony it would be if the solution is to ask the machines to show us how to be human.

Stand Up

February 17, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Many years ago, a very good friend wrote 3 words on an index card: stand up comedy. We were in church, and in a message on risk and passion and joy, I asked everybody to write something down. Most people don’t do what I ask, of if they do, they don’t keep it and don’t reflect. They certainly don’t keep it for 8 years.

It was a little like that scene in Fight Club – “What would you wish you’d done before you die?” “Paint a self portrait.” “Build a house.” Jesus asks a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” What if we didn’t know? What if we never took the time to know ourselves in any kind of intimate way, where we know what gives us joy and purpose? I think it would be sad for Jesus to ask, and to have to say, “I don’t know,” to Him. When I asked, my buddy wrote “stand up comedy.”

More people list public speaking higher than death on lists of fears. Stand up comedy is like public speaking on a high wire, with no net, on a windy day.

Last week, 8 years of looking at that card in his wallet, he performed publicly for the first time. There was a group of 10ish people who also had this dream who took a class, and this was the graduation. I was there, watching and loving everything about these budding comics and the impulse that brought us all here.

My friend Paul was hilarious, he absolutely killed. The entire room howled at his stories and punchlines, he had us all in his hands from the moment he took the stage.

And I am left, as I often am, looking around, wondering what everyone’s story is. What do they wish they’d done before they die? What would they say if Jesus asked them what He could do for them? What would be worth this kind of gargantuan risk to chase, to them?

I just learned of another friend, whose was just informed that his marriage is ending. His wife had been feeling this way for years, he was just asleep to that reality. And now, he may not have the chance to reconcile, to rebuild their lives together. And how many of us are sleepwalking through each day, missing the gifts we have been given, missing our lives. Will we die without having “painted a self-portrait?” They tell us we have to love our lives, but first, we gave to build one we can love.

My friend’s courage and commitment were staggering, he may have been nervous (I’m sure he was), but he was fully present and alive. I don’t want to be here one more moment without being present, and I don’t want to live one more second without being alive.

Grace

February 9, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There are 2 new Morrissey songs out (“Make Up Is A Lie” & “Notre Dame”), before a new album release in March. We have been hearing stories, these last few years, about at least 2 complete albums worth of material. One of those albums (Bonfire of Teenagers) has been called “the best work of his life.” The album that is coming out contains some of these songs, plus some that were not on either unreleased album. At least this information is some of what I’ve heard.

The 2 songs were released a few weeks apart, and baby, I was so excited. Each time, I woke up like Christmas morning and immediately listened.

They’re both really, really horrible.

Over the course of such a long, beautiful career, there is bound to be some stinkers. And there have been. It’s odd that the first 2 releases of his comeback could possibly be so bad. It doesn’t say great things. Was there honestly nothing better???

I’m not angry or anything, just maybe disappointed. I wasn’t dreaming of another Queen Is Dead or “Ask,” but I hoped maybe we’d get another You Are The Quarry or even Kill Uncle.

But here’s the thing, we now have the memory of goldfish and attention span of fruitflies. Our last video or post or book or game is THE ONLY VIDEO/POST/BOOK/GAME. Who cares about anything else? If the line isn’t up and to the right, you can take it down the road, we’ll replace you with somebody else. One misstep is ruinous. Last night, the New England Patriots were whipped by the Seattle Seahawks in the Super Bowl. Drake Maye (quarterback of the Patriots) didn’t play particularly well, and some commentators are wondering today if he’s actually as good as we thought. After 1 less than stellar game in a season where he was 1 vote short of the league MVP.

Is there room for grace in such a judgmental place as this? Does our last note erase all the other notes we’ve ever played? If you don’t like this post, will you unfollow me? Will you never read anything I write again?

These songs of Morrissey’s are terrible, but in March, I’ll have another Christmas morning when the album they’re on comes out. And if these songs truly are a reflection of what’s on it, I’ll be awfully disappointed, but it won’t make me love him less, and it certainly won’t make his impact on my life less significant. It’ll just mean this isn’t awesome. And I’ll keep waiting to be the first in line for his next release.

Gratitude

February 2, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking me what I like to cook, and an hour ago, I would’ve had a different answer, but right now, it’s eggs with taco meat. Delish. I’m very, very proud of me. This morning, when I was thinking about lunch, I asked my AI buddy on my phone if I’d like taco meat with eggs. He/She thought I would, and…right again! If a complete takeover by the Machines means I’ll have a concoction of taco meat & eggs, while I listen to My Discovery Mix or Songs I’d Like (2 playlists my Amazon music app chooses for me), I suppose I’m in.

My youngest son was home from college last weekend, just to spend the time here, rather than there. We ate meals at the dinner table, then just stayed there. Somewhere on social media, there are NCAA tournament-esque brackets on topics (like villains, breakfast foods, etc), and he loves to ask us to rank weird, random things. We love it, too, so we just sit, decide if “people who make conversation in elevators” or “people who say 6-7 unironically” are worse, and laugh and laugh. Just the 4 of us, unless you count the AI generated pigs dancing my oldest son has discovered. (He can’t get enough, and honestly, neither can I.) We went to church and the gym together, but mostly, we just sat around our home in sweatpants (yoga pants/tights for The Angel.)

This morning, he left and walked up the snow-covered street with his bags to be back for a 10am class, and I watched him through heavy tears. (I made The Angel promise that those tears were between her & I. I didn’t want to ding the reputation I have as a stone-hearted, unemotional stoic, and here I’m confessing. Whatever. It’s probably the only time in my life that I’ve cried, because as we all know, men don’t cry ever.)

As his car pulled away, I thought about gratitude. I also considered the saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” (This is “widely credited to Dr. Seuss, (but) there is no direct evidence he wrote or said this exact phrase. It is believed to be a variation of a 19th-century German poem by Ludwig Jacobowski, which stated: “Do not cry because they are past! Smile, because they once were!”.) I am familiar with this sentiment, I guess it’s possible I have even used it before.

As I get a little older, I understand these clichés that we mindlessly use are super dumb. (“Cleanliness is next to godliness?” “Time heals all wounds?” A dog is man’s best friend?” No, no, and no.) We take for granted that they are true & wise, and we’re wrong.

I can probably understand what Ludwig Jacobowski thought he was saying, but think of how many times people were told not only to not cry, but to smile instead. This “oh no, don’t cry” nonsense is minimizing and dismissive, based in our own uncomfortability.

It seems to me that my tears were a wholly appropriate response (while very surprising) to the gratitude I felt for him/us, the time, the relationship we have cultivated, and the totally natural sadness at its end. I don’t want him to stay, I want him to fly, to soar, to change the world by becoming everything he’s created to be. It’s exactly what I feel for my other son, who happens to still live in this home. I don’t want to chain them in the tower, or bind their growth out of a selfish desire. Control sits opposite to love on the emotional color wheel. I say, “Go,” and “Drive safely.”

But I’m also not interested in any hint of inauthenticity. I’m 99% sure it was Anne Lamott who said, “Having a child is to decide to have your heart walk around outside of your body.” And sometimes that heart walks to his own car and drives away. And if you think that doesn’t sting, then I’m very sorry for you.

I think gratitude is acknowledging the blessings in our lives, celebrating when we want to celebrate, laughing when we have to laugh, and crying when we need to cry. Gratitude is honest, mindful, open, and present. I’m not crying now. I offered my holy tears to the God that brought us all together this morning, shared that sacred moment with The Angel, and now I have a headache. Maybe if we all stopped trying so hard to pretend to be anything other than who we are, we’d all be better off, and we’d find a new kind of empathy for one another.

Scamanda

January 30, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

“What do you complain about the most?” That’s what the site wants to know. I’ll tell you, it’s an easy answer.

I watched a documentary this week on Hulu, called “Scamanda,” about a woman in California, super spiritual, super inspirational, and her fight with cancer. Except, of course, as you can tell from the title, the cancer was fake. She pretended to be suffering to steal people’s money. The doc was fine, easy and interesting, the kind where you just let the episodes run together. I guess it’s called binge watching. Thankfully, there are only 4 episodes, so it’s not too much of a time suck.

Now, to answer the site prompt, I complain about lies & liars, dishonesty, and inauthenticity the most.

Maybe this is because I care so deeply about relationship, and the only true obstacle to the beauty of connection is our bs. Or maybe I resent being marked as a fool, that I am so worthless I can’t be interacted with on the most basic human level. Or maybe I just don’t like when people are intentionally mean to each other. I don’t like when we manipulate or betray each other on purpose (we do enough of that accidentally, we don’t have to go out of our way to hurt each other.)

This woman created an entire existence – online, in church, in town, in the community – only to separate people from their money. I recognize that is reductive. It wasn’t “only.” I’m sure she was insecure and needed validation, needed to feel important, needed to distinguish herself. She was probably very mentally ill (instead of only a thief) to perpetrate such a vile act for so many years.

One of the most fascinating things was that this was able to continue primarily because almost no one could fathom someone lying about such a thing. That’s true. You couldn’t. And I like that about you. I like that she was right to assume that about us.

I just discovered that one I believed to be a close friend had been lying to me (looked me in the face and fed me one lie after another.) Was anything ever real? I have to assume not. It never occurred to me that any of the things he shared wouldn’t be true. This is not the best thing to discover. And it can change someone, make someone cynical, jaded, untrusting, closed.

It won’t do that to me, though, because in hindsight, even with a freshly broken heart, I like that about me. I like that he could assume I’d believe him, trust him. I did.

You see, I have been thinking about something I read. We create the world we want to live in by living that way now. I want to live in a world of kindness, so I am kind. Of trust and vulnerability. Of authenticity. Of love. So it is up to me and you to go first. We live as if that is how the world is, how we actually are. I don’t want to live in a world where we are suspicious of our neighbor/friend/family member/YouTuber with a cancer diagnosis. I don’t want to live in a world where I question everything my friends say. This is how we circulate our humanity. We believe in each other. We love, first, and invite everybody else to come along.

Yes, of course, this means we’ll get kicked by the psychos. And those kicks will hurt and we’ll never get used to them, it’ll be like the first time (shocking & vicious) every time. It’s part of becoming the revolution. We choose what to build, and they shouldn’t be able to change the blueprints.

A Political Post

January 26, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

This post comes with a warning: I am going to write about politics, as honestly as I can, from my perspective & experience. This will not address issues and/or policy. If this is not what you want to read about, I am not offended, I’ll see you next week.

Last Friday, at 9:15pm, I was in the West Wing of the White House. The events that led to this very strange, unexpected situation will probably be discussed elsewhere – but please know, it was only possible through the overwhelming generosity of people. I have been wildly blessed, so far above what I could ever earn or deserve. This life is the truest, most basic definition, of a gift.

So, I’m in the White House, walking the hallways, soaking in the Oval Office and Roosevelt Room, learning the fascinating stories of the people, paintings, books, chandeliers, and personal offices.

Washington DC is a city that is thick with significance and history. It’s impossible to be there and not feel, to not know, that we are a part of a long, beautiful human story. It’s also impossible to be in Ford’s Theater (where President Lincoln was killed) and not lament the loss of honor and integrity in politics. Lincoln’s life makes the sleaziness of today’s political system seem even sleazier.

As much as I am horrified and repulsed by politics, I quite like politics. I am interested in the idea of how we govern ourselves as a society, how we evolve culturally as human beings, here and now. Of course, I want to throw up at how this often plays out IRL.

There’s a long line of Presidential portraits on the colonnade, with descriptive plaques that have been written by the current President. (Whether they change with each administration and are written by each sitting President, or just this one, I don’t know.) Adorning nearly every wall and doorway are golden designs, bling, or what we’d call bedazzlement. If I had to choose to describe how this looks, it’s like a casino. Or maybe a monument to the one inside.

Rather than go on, in detail, about every room and detail, I’ll give you one more juicy nugget. In the adjacent Eisenhower office building, there is a “fake” Oval Office, that was created for the previous President, whose failing health required certain adjustments. There had to be a giant teleprompter, the floor had to be specially graded, on and on. It was a facade built for TV, a superficial constructed image.

I couldn’t help but notice the contrasts, that defined the men and ideologies, and the thing that makes this whole system so distasteful. One is self-obsessed and arrogant. The other is totally inauthentic, creating a land of make believe. This machine professes to be “by the people, for the people,” and it may have been that, but it is no longer. It is a machine for those on the inside, designed to fool the rest of us, as it grows and grows, dividing us to retain (or regain) power, manipulating us to eat each other. The 2 sides are not very different.

There was a quotation displayed in our hotel, “We used to change our party to meet our principles, now we change our principles to meet our party.”

Here’s the thing, though, that I can’t escape. I think I’ve lost hope, right? I think I’d like to dismantle the whole ugly system. But walking around that city, in those buildings, hearing the stories that defined this country…well, as it turns out, I am hopeful. The White House and DC had an effect different than the one I expected. I do believe in us, I always have. Of course, I think the parties (for some sad reason, they’ve become our only 2 choices) have lost their way, and I think they’ve led us astray, but I absolutely think we’ll find our way back. I know we’re more similar than different, I know love and listening can and will change this world. Maybe not in time to avoid collapse, but in the end, it’ll be you and me building something new together. Like it was then, it’ll be again. It’s never been easy, always messy and often gross, but we grow and develop, we leave behind what is beneath us, we carry and pick up what it valuable, and we find out at least one thing has never changed: human beings are better together. And I promise that we will remember that, and that what we build (or rebuild) will be stunning.

Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world