I see the images. Kids walking single file. Hands grasping the shoulders in front of them.
I want to run to them, protect them, comfort them in their fear. Tell them they are safe, they are loved in the middle of this horrific and seemingly God-forsaken world.
Lately I’ve been feeling a tug somewhere deep within me. Really, it’s more than a tug and I’ve been feeling it for a while now.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first. Yet the pull between worshipping God or worshipping the god of political correctness has become more critical and demanding, bringing with it both conviction and consequences.