Facing Evil's Underbelly Together

One Compassionate Action Everyone Can Take

The seemingly innocuous underbelly of a perfectly normal jetliner

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”- Jesus Christ, Matthew 26:38, NIV

The roar always came first.

The pool was only two blocks away, so I walked to swim practice after school. In this supposedly simpler time, my parents must have assumed I would be safe, even though I was only seven.

But in the thick of the trees, I heard it before I saw it. Before I could get out of the way, it was upon me.

Hands smashed flat up against my ears, screaming at the top of my lungs, I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me.

Folks driving down the street undoubtedly saw me, but of course they couldn’t hear me. No one could hear anything when they came, which was every few minutes.

That neighborhood is adjacent to Miami International Airport. These days, the constant procession of arriving jets usually lumber in low over the Everglades. But back in the early 1960’s, the landing pattern brought them right over my house. Low, slow, and deafening, I just knew one of them would eventually squash me flat.

I never told a soul. Why would I? I figured everyone felt the way I did.

The next year we moved a few blocks away. The roar of jet engines was still my constant companion, but at least I wasn’t going mano-a-mano with the evil underbelly of a beast from hell. I breathed a sigh of relief until the next crisis: a band of bully brothers ruled my new bus stop.

On This Side of Heaven, It’s Always Something

Which brings us to our living American nightmare. Before writing this, I wanted to listen and watch what happened when Donald Trump took office.

It’s way worse than I thought it would be.

In less than three weeks, Trump has carved his jagged initials into flayed flesh of a defeated democracy. Certified wackos make up his cabinet. Across the globe, nations are bracing for a power-mad dictator who wants to take over the world. Here at home, Elon Musk scribbles his naughty-or-nice list. Those who did the right thing, who stood up to the world’s most famous convicted felon, will suffer for their courage.

And everyone who isn’t white, straight, and relatively wealthy is steeling themselves for the plunge into panic, prejudice, persecution, and poverty.

With or without divine intervention, we’re in for a rough ride.

Because this is really a global crisis, there are countless voices crying out in the darkness. For ideas on like-minded writers, speakers, activists, and pastors, visit my Substack home page for recommendations. In addition, my Christian Resistance website lists other resources.

There seems to be, and rightly so, the belief that we all need to suit up and show up, using our individual gifts and talents to defeat this evil man and his movement. Truer words were never spoken.

But after considerable thought and prayer, the message from my heart to yours is from one frightened child to another.

Let us acknowledge the fear in our own souls. Let us pay attention to each other in our communal dread. And let us realize that at least half of this country, and much of the world, is terrified.

“How might this help?” you may ask.

Well, ‘misery loves company’ still rings true. But let’s kick it up a notch and follow Jesus as he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane.

As the late hours of terror and horror drag by, Jesus begs his best friends to stay awake with him while he pleads with his Father for deliverance. No one, not even the Son of God, wants to be alone in their fear.

As one who has little influence and even fewer resources, I find it comforting to think that even the smallest gesture in the face of enormous evil would have meant so much to Jesus Christ. Imagine what it might mean to my next-door neighbor.

I can probably do that one thing.

Still Facing Down the Beast From Hell

So you’ll never guess where I live now.

At the end of the runway, Stevens Field, Pagosa Springs, Colorado.

This time, we’re under the departures. These planes are generally way smaller and less intimidating than a 707. Still, this could be the way I go out.

At the moment, I’m not afraid of them. But if I hear one coming down, I know what to do.

I’ll call my next door-neighbor. Kidding! She’ll probably get wiped out with me. I’ll call on Jesus. As one of my favorite old hymns says,

“See on the portal He’s waiting and watching

Watching for you and for me.”*

The assurance of His love is the best possible defense against my fear. I can’t think of a better neighbor than the One who’s expecting me home.

*Softly and Tenderly, Author Will L. Thompson, 1880