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Tuesday, July 21, 2026

Rough Road Ahead

While I have never been especially fond of road trips, I have taken many over the years. Over a lifetime of driving—cross-country journeys, weekend getaways, long commutes, and everything in between—I have traveled many miles.

I have driven highways, freeways, two-lane country roads, and roads that hardly seemed like roads at all—just well-worn paths through the forest.

I've traveled long, flat stretches of highway that appeared to disappear into the horizon. I've navigated winding mountain roads where the next s-curve only became visible as I rounded the last one.

I've driven on freshly paved highways so smooth they felt like floating on glass, and I've bounced along rough gravel roads that made me wonder whether my fillings would survive the journey.

Along the way, I have witnessed breathtaking mountains, rivers, lakes, waterfalls, forests, and endless fields of corn. I've also seen the scars left behind by floods, wildfires, and drought.



As I reflect on these travels, I realize they are a beautiful metaphor for life.

Our lives are a journey.

Sometimes we travel for long stretches on smooth roads with no apparent obstacles or potholes. Other times, life becomes rough and rocky, shaking us to our core.

Sometimes our path is straight and clear, allowing us to move forward with confidence. Other times, it twists and turns in ways we never could have imagined.

Our journey reveals beauty, joy, and love. It also brings pain, sorrow, and loss.

The Sign I Didn't Expect

On a recent trip, I noticed one of those flashing highway marquee signs with bright amber lights. It read:

ROUGH ROAD AHEAD

I laughed out loud.

I couldn't help but think, Wouldn't it be nice if life came with signs like that?

After all, our highways are filled with signs that tell us what to expect:

  • Slow down ahead.
  • Merging traffic.
  • Watch for deer.
  • Sharp curves.
  • Dangerous intersections.

Wouldn't it be comforting if life gave us the same kind of advance notice?

The thought didn't last long.

It quickly dawned on me that if we knew everything that lay ahead, we might miss the very adventures life is inviting us to experience. We might avoid taking risks. We might never venture around the next curve to discover unexpected beauty, new possibilities, or profound love.

Yes, we might avoid some pain, sorrow, and disappointment.

But life would also lose much of its richness.

If we seek to avoid the pain of loss, we may never experience the depth of love.

If we seek to avoid sorrow, we may never know the fullness of joy.

If we avoid every challenge, we cannot fully appreciate the beauty and wonder of the easier seasons.

Living One Moment at a Time

I am grateful for the signs that help keep me safe as I travel the highways and byways of this awe-inspiring landscape.

I am equally grateful that life itself doesn't come with those same directional signs.

Without them, we are invited—perhaps even required—to remain fully present for whatever each moment brings: the good, the difficult, and everything in between.

Our opportunity—and sometimes our greatest challenge—is to recognize God in all of it.

Every experience, every twist in the road, every smooth stretch, every unexpected detour can become another step on our journey toward realizing and expressing our true divine nature.

Perhaps, on second thought, everything that happens along our path is a sign.

Each experience gently points us home, one step at a time, reminding us of who and what we truly are.

Enjoy the journey.

What “curve in the road” has ultimately led you to greater wisdom, love, or spiritual growth?

 

Friday, May 22, 2026

Love Can Change The World

 Love Can Change the World

And it begins with you.


A young man came to our door one afternoon looking for a minister to talk to. He was not in crisis in any dramatic sense. He was simply searching — unsettled by what he saw in the world and unsure where to turn.

He talked about the polarization, the anger, the fear. He expressed his disillusionment with the church he had grown up in, which had offered him doctrine but not, it seemed, the living truth he was hungry for. He was asking the question that so many of us are quietly carrying right now: Is love actually strong enough to do anything about the state of the world?

I have been sitting with that question ever since.


The Temptation of Despair

I understand the temptation toward despair. I feel it myself at times.

When I look at the division in our public life — the way fear has been weaponized, the way human beings have been reduced to categories, the way so many people seem to speak past one another rather than to one another — I sometimes wonder if love is not simply too quiet, too slow, too easily dismissed to matter in the face of all that noise.

And then I remember something.

Fear is loud. Love is deep.

Fear moves fast, burning through everything it touches. Love moves like water — finding its way into the smallest cracks, wearing down the hardest stone, sustaining life long after the fire has spent itself.

I do not believe we are called to be naive about the very real pain and injustice in our world. Quite the opposite. I believe we are called to look at it clearly, honestly, and without flinching — and then to respond from the deepest truth we know.

That truth is love.


What We Mean by Love

I want to be careful here, because love is one of the most misused words in the English language.

I am not talking about sentiment. I am not talking about a warm feeling we have toward people we find easy to be around. I am not talking about the love that costs us nothing.

In Unity, we teach that Love is one of the twelve spiritual powers — a faculty we possess, not merely an emotion we experience. Love, as a spiritual power, is our capacity to magnetize, harmonize, and unify. It is the drawing power of the universe. It is the energy that, when consciously activated, dissolves separation and restores us to our awareness of oneness.

Charles Fillmore, the cofounder of Unity, called Love the greatest of all the twelve powers because it is the very nature of God. If God is Love — not merely loving, but Love itself — then to act from love is to act from the deepest reality there is. It is to align ourselves with the fundamental force of the universe.

That is not a small thing. That is not a soft thing.

That is, in fact, the most powerful thing.

As the Apostle John wrote: "Perfect love casts out all fear." Not argues with fear. Not negotiates with fear. Casts it out — because in the presence of Love fully realized, fear has no ground to stand on.


Love as Action

But here is where it gets personal. And difficult.

I have shared openly that I sometimes struggle to love certain people unconditionally. There are people whose behavior activates my own wounded places and causes me to see them through the lens of their actions rather than through the eyes of love. People who frighten me. People who have caused harm. People whose worldview feels not just different from mine, but dangerous.

I am not proud of that struggle. But I am honest about it, because I think honesty is the only useful starting place.

Here is what I have come to understand: Love does not mean I approve of harmful behavior. Love does not mean I remain passive in the face of injustice. Love does not mean I pretend that what is wrong is actually fine.

Love means I refuse to reduce any human being — including those I most disagree with — to the worst version of themselves. Love means I remember that beneath the fear, the anger, the behavior I find most disturbing, there is a human being who is suffering. Not as an excuse. But as a truth that, if I hold it, keeps my own heart from hardening into the very thing I am resisting.

As I once reflected on the words of Jesus — "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends" — I came to understand that the life we are asked to lay down is the life of the ego-dominated mind. The part of us that insists on being right, on protecting its image, on keeping careful score of who deserves compassion and who does not.

That laying-down is not weakness. It is the most courageous thing a human being can do.


The Ripple We Cannot See

During one of my morning meditations, it came to me that we vastly underestimate the impact of our inner life on the world around us.

We live as though the world "out there" is the primary reality, and our inner life is something private and separate — a personal matter with no public consequence. But everything we understand about consciousness, from Unity metaphysics to quantum physics to the ancient contemplative traditions, points in the opposite direction.

The Butterfly Effect tells us that a small change in one part of a system can produce far-reaching effects throughout the whole. What is true in weather systems is true in consciousness. A thought entertained in one mind creates a ripple in the unified field of awareness that touches everything and everyone.

When you choose love over fear in a moment when fear would be easier — when you soften your judgment of someone who has wounded you, when you offer genuine presence to someone who is suffering, when you refuse to add your voice to the chorus of contempt — you are not doing a small thing. You are shifting the field. You are changing the world in ways you will never be able to track or measure, but that are no less real for being invisible.

We are all doing this, all the time. The only question is which direction we are moving the field.


What Jesus Was Actually Teaching

I have spent a great deal of my life returning to the life and teachings of Jesus — not because I subscribe to every interpretation that has been placed on his story, but because when I look at what he actually did, I see the most radical demonstration of love-as-power that has ever been lived.

He healed the sick, fed the hungry, and restored the outcasts. He included those that his culture had decided were unincludable. He looked at the woman caught in adultery and saw, not a sin to condemn, but a person to set free. He looked at the Roman soldier and the Samaritan and the tax collector and saw, in each of them, what he saw in himself: the presence of God.

And then he said, plainly: "Follow me."

Not worship me from a distance. Not admire what I did and feel grateful that I did it so you don't have to. Follow me. Do what I am doing. See what I am seeing.

In Unity, we teach that Jesus is our way-shower — not the exception, but the example. The demonstration of what becomes possible when a human being fully awakens to the Divine nature within and lives from that awakening without compromise.

That invitation is still open. It is open right now, in whatever moment you are reading these words.


It Begins Here

The transformation of the world does not begin in the halls of power. It does not begin with legislation, though legislation matters. It does not begin with systems, though systems must change.

It begins in the human heart. In the willingness to do the inner work of awakening. In the daily, unglamorous, often humbling practice of choosing love when everything in us wants to choose fear.

It begins when we stop waiting for the world to become more loving before we commit to being more loving. When we stop making our compassion conditional on other people's behavior. When we stop asking why hasn't someone done something? and start asking what is mine to do?

It begins with the young man at the door, who does not need us to have all the answers — but who desperately needs to encounter a living demonstration that love is real, that it is possible, and that it is worth betting a life on.

It begins with me. It begins with you.

One thought. One conversation. One act of genuine presence. One moment of choosing to see the Christ — the sacred, irreducible worth — in a person it would be easier to dismiss.

That is not nothing. That is everything.

The world is changed by love one heart at a time. Let it begin with ours.


What is stirring in you as you read this? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.