My soul is worn.

This is not depression but mental and emotional and spiritual exhaustion.

The state of our country is terrifying.

Everyone tells me not to pay attention.

Let it go.

Ignore it.

Focus on what is in front of me.

I can’t be complacent.

I can’t look away. It sucks me in.

I can’t be silent.

But I know I need to be rested to fight.

Resistance takes many different forms.

Today, resistance looks like sitting by the fire with my coffee,

Seeing the beauty outside my windows

Worshipping in the quiet,

Taking care of my body,

Loving my family well,

Reflecting on how God has changed my life

And hoping that same power and light

Will pierce the darkness that is all around me.

Trusting God feels impossible some days.

The world is deeply dark.

Nothing makes sense.

My faith is slipping away.

Calling myself a Christian right now feels wrong because the term is being weaponized to literally kill people.

I guess none of this is new. Jesus died at the hands of these same people.

He knows. He sees. He feels. He has lived it and died because of it.

It would be so easy to constantly be pulled down by all of this which would leave no energy for anything else.

My desire is to live and love like Jesus. But how?

I want to be angry, but people don’t change their minds because someone is yelling at them.

Yes, Jesus flipped tables, but He also spent a lot of time alone with His Father in the quiet, loved people unconditionally, including the “unlovable” and the “least of these.”

He even died for the very people who murdered Him.

“Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” The people who killed Jesus were blind just like so many are now.

Rest is resistance. Love is resistance. Joy is resistance. Hope is resistance.

Evil thrives on chaos—doing the opposite is resistance.

They want us angry. They want us fighting.

What would it look like if we loved well instead?

What would it look like if we paused from leaning into the chaos and served others instead?

Today, resistance looks like noticing.

Noticing the unique snowflakes that are floating through the air.

Noticing the glitter of the snow under the sun.

Noticing the scent of lavender from the candle in front of me.

Noticing the warmth of the roaring fire in our wood-burning fireplace.

Noticing the breath filling my lungs.

Noticing the strong arms of Jesus holding me and carrying me.

Noticing the laughter of my family as we enjoy each other’s company.

Resistance also looks like remembering.

Remembering the years of suffering that I have been delivered from.

Remembering that God has brought provision in ways that we never expected.

Remembering that none of this happened on my timeline but on His.

Remembering that God heals, provides, changes lives, and it rarely happens how I think it should.

Jesus looks nothing like The World.

Maybe that’s the point.

He’s quiet in the chaos.

He’s intentional.

He IS love. He IS grace. He IS hope.

I can rest in these truths. This is what resistance looks like.