Posted in Positive Flow

A Message on Open and Honest Discourse

Sending Love and Prayers to the family of Charlie Kirk

To my brothers and sisters who may feel anger or even hatred toward Charlie Kirk:

I want to start by saying your feelings are real and deserve respect. It’s not easy to listen to someone whose words have caused frustration, pain, or even anger. For many Black Americans, history itself has taught us to be cautious about voices that seem to dismiss or challenge our lived experience. That weight is real.

But here’s something important: shutting down dialogue closes doors that might lead to understanding, growth, and even change.

1. The Value of Listening — Even When It Hurts

Listening doesn’t mean agreeing. Listening means:

  • You choose to understand where someone else is coming from.
  • You develop the ability to respond thoughtfully instead of reacting out of frustration.
  • You demonstrate strength, not weakness — because it takes courage to face ideas that don’t affirm you.

When Dr. King debated segregationists, he didn’t do it because he loved what they said. He did it because he understood that open discourse is how you expose truth and challenge error.


2. The Strength of Our Tradition

Our history as Black people in America is filled with leaders who were never afraid of hard conversations. Frederick Douglass, Malcolm X, Fannie Lou Hamer — all engaged with opponents who dismissed or demeaned them. Why? Because truth has a way of shining brighter when it’s tested against falsehood.


3. Why Open Discourse Matters Today

  • If we only talk to people who agree with us, we never sharpen our perspective.
  • When we engage with those we disagree with, we not only learn about them — we also learn about ourselves.
  • Sometimes, surprising common ground emerges in areas we never expected.

4. Moving Beyond Hate

Hatred only eats away at the hater. If we carry resentment into every conversation, it blinds us to opportunities for influence and healing. Open discourse doesn’t erase pain, but it transforms it into power.


Closing Thought

It’s okay to say, “I don’t agree with Charlie Kirk, and I may never agree with him.” But it’s also okay — and even necessary — to talk with people who don’t think like you. That’s how bridges are built, that’s how stereotypes are broken, and that’s how we move forward as a people.

Open and honest discourse is not about Charlie Kirk. It’s about us — our strength, our growth, and our future.

Prayer for the Family of Charlie Kirk

Heavenly Father,

We come before You with heavy hearts, lifting up the family of Charlie Kirk in their time of grief. Lord, You are close to the brokenhearted and You save those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). We ask that Your presence would surround his wife, children, parents, and all who loved him deeply.

Give them comfort in their sorrow, peace in their questions, and strength for the days ahead. May they find refuge under Your wings and assurance in Your promise that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38–39).

Father, we thank You for the ways Charlie’s life impacted many, and we ask that the seeds of truth, courage, and conviction he planted would continue to grow. We pray that his family would feel the love and support of community, and more importantly, the tender care of Your Spirit.

Turn their mourning into hope, and let their tears remind them of Your promise of eternal life through Christ. Hold them close, Lord, and carry them as they walk through this valley of loss.

In Jesus’ name we pray,
Amen.

Posted in Positive Flow

When the Bible Gives Me Anxiety Instead of Comfort

For many, the Bible is a source of comfort, a place they turn when life feels uncertain. But for me, it’s often the opposite. Reading certain parts of Scripture doesn’t bring me peace—it brings anxiety. And I know I’m not alone in this feeling, even if it’s not often talked about in church circles.

What troubles me most is how God is portrayed, especially in the Old Testament. Stories of entire villages being destroyed so the children of Israel could take the land—they don’t sit right with me. It feels less like divine justice and more like favoritism with a violent price tag. If God is love, why do so many people seem to get left out—or wiped out?

I wrestle with the idea that God might not want everyone to be saved. And when I read these stories, I can’t help but wonder: what if I’m not one of the “chosen”? That thought alone keeps me up at night.

Then I get to the New Testament and expect a change. Jesus arrives with compassion and mercy, right? But then I read about Him rebuking the Pharisees and others who followed the very laws God gave them. It almost feels like a teenager rebelling against a strict parent. Of course, I know that’s not what’s really happening—Jesus wasn’t rebelling but revealing the heart behind the law. Still, it’s hard to reconcile.

If God gave the law, why does it feel like Jesus is so hard on those who cling to it? If the Old Testament shows a God of order and commands, and the New Testament shows a God of grace, how do those pieces fit together without creating confusion and fear?

I’m not writing this because I have answers. I’m writing this because I need space to ask the questions. Faith isn’t always a straight line—it’s often a winding road through doubt, discomfort, and discovery. And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe God is big enough to handle my anxiety. Maybe He’s not offended by my questions. And maybe, in time, I’ll find a way to see these hard stories through a lens of hope rather than fear.

But for now, I’m still wrestling.

For Reflection:
“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.”
— 1 Corinthians 13:12 (KJV)