Acceptance. Resistance. Compliance.

Today I will accept this reality as normal. I accept a history that shows it is normal for the powerful to consolidate their power, normal for the richest to hoard their riches, normal for the bronze gods to command worship, normal to comply and pledge allegiance, normal for empires to acquire resources at the expense of all else, normal that we all suffer in varying degrees and ways, normal to seek deliverance from our suffering, normal that many promises of deliverance turn out to be cons and lies, normal that “mankind are more disposed to suffer while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.” I accept that all of this has been the norm.

I commit to resisting the norm. I commit to resisting the forms to which I am accustomed when I find those forms cause suffering. I commit to resisting hyperbole. I commit to resisting lazy thinking, canned responses, clever slogans, and language divorced from our life here on earth. I commit to resisting quick fear toward those I am told are the criminals, quick blame toward those I am told are the cause of suffering, quick anger toward those I am told are the enemy of my country. I commit to resisting bad information, false equivalencies, echo chambers, and mob mind. I commit to resisting.

And yet, I will comply. I will comply with what you and I discover together over the course of long conversations. I will comply with the visions of the Beloved Community. I will comply with my intellect and intuitions, my reason and epiphanies. I will comply with my body’s cries for Sabbath, for rest, for peace. I will comply with the call to not hoard the blessings pouring down, but to be a conduit, a path, a vessel. I will comply with the demands of hope and the habits of love. I will comply with the deep time of seasons and liturgies, not the malnourished rush of news feeds, quarterly earnings, and executive orders. I will comply, however imperfectly. I will comply imperfectly, knowing my imperfections are held by the web of grace we rise daily to weave again.