The Fire We Carry
Before this series ends, we must say something plain: we’ve been here before.
We’ve watched entire populations stripped of their humanity, not with swords, but with silence. Not by monsters, but by neighbors. We’ve watched good people look away as bad things hardened into policy. Slavery, internment camps, forced removals—each began with a story that justified cruelty.
We carry those stories in our national memory.
But we carry something else, too:
The fire of conscience. The seed of empathy. The ache for grace.
This isn’t about perfection.
It’s about waking up.
Because beneath all the slogans, we know right from wrong. We just have to stop pretending we don’t.
🕯️ The Fire We Carry
Lincoln knew what was at stake: not just a union of states, but a union of souls. His compass was not political strategy—it was moral clarity. He called the nation to confront its failures not with shame, but with resolve.
And that same call echoes now. Not just in speeches or ballots. In conversations. In mirrors.
When I debated Kelly on Facebook—a neighbor shaped by the news she consumed—I realized how deeply truth had been replaced by fear. Her words weren’t born of cruelty. They were echoes. Repeated themes. Emotional shortcuts.
And I couldn’t dislike her for that. I had to name it. Because silence is surrender.
🔄 The Choice Between Grace and Disdain
Grace is not a feeling. It’s a direction. A cardinal point on the moral compass of the self.
It invites us to stop reacting, and start seeing. To recognize that the barriers between us—between empathy and disdain—are old survival instincts. But instincts can be retrained. Especially when we listen. Especially when we remember.
The most dangerous stories aren’t the lies we hear. They’re the ones we start to believe about who deserves care, and who does not.
I’ve come to see how my own worldview, like many others, is vulnerable to being manipulated by the narratives I’m most likely to accept. When the “facts” I prefer show up in news I already trust, it’s easy to nod and move on. But that’s where the real danger lies: subtle manipulation that goes unchecked because it feels comfortable. And once we discard ideas that challenge us, we stop learning.
🧭 Returning to Ourselves
Grace is a foundational principle—one of the cardinal points on the compass of self. It lives near empathy. Whether viewed through the lens of religion or through the responsibilities of citizenship, grace reminds us to love our neighbor. It’s a civic act as much as a spiritual one.
Our instincts are in play when we refuse to accept others as worthy of grace—especially when our leaders forget to show it. Grace—the actual expression of grace—should be something we seriously consider when we elect our representatives. After all, we all rely on grace to coexist. Sometimes we all need a little help, and to have help denied to ourselves is not a concept we like to consider.
To be surprised with grace is often taken for granted, especially when we are young. As a boy, I showed up every Sunday morning to shovel the walks of a local church. I learned early on that the act was a two-way street—grace of labor and grace of those watching. Of course, I was paid for my effort, but Mr. Douglas had many boys to choose from. He chose me. Much later in my life, I reflect on this small two-way grace and know that these are the things that help shape our lives.
🗣️ The Power of Story: José’s Journey
If I had 60 seconds to shift someone’s perspective on immigration, I would begin with a story—like José’s. A naturalized citizen now living in Mission, Texas, José raised a family on the wages of a migrant farm laborer. He overcame the implicit challenges of that lifestyle—at times foraging for food—yet he established himself, built a home, raised two children, sacrificed for their education, and saw them thrive: one as a lawyer and the other as a nurse.
Is this the norm? Or is this just an aberration, as some of today’s infotainment might lead us to believe? The truth is, it takes more than one story—more than one moment—to change minds. It takes time. Repetition. Grace.
🫂 This Is Us
Not divided by fear. But united by truth.
Not ruled by instinct. But guided by grace.
Not destined to repeat the worst of our history.
But called to redeem it.
We are the ones who carry the fire.
Not alone. Together.
This is us.
This is our chance to return to ourselves.
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