Social media has made it far too easy for me to share my opinion.
 
These virtual spaces tend to strip our words of all empathy. Someone will post something that I think is nonsense, and I just have to tell them why — and quickly! Hurry! Before they delete it!
 
Nine times out of ten, when the dust is settled, I find that I’ve said too much and listened too little.
 
As I’ve gotten older, the motto I try (not always successfully) to live by is this: You do not have to be on the attack all of the time, even if it’s for what you think is the truth.
 
I can’t help but notice that the first thing Jesus does when he hears of the arrest of John the Baptist is to retreat. He doesn’t punch a hole in a wall or take to the streets in protest. He withdraws.
 
And what does he do after withdrawing? A lot of praying, I would imagine. A lot of thinking, a lot of reflecting. A lot of listening to the voice of his Father.
 
Sometimes we mistake stillness with vulnerability. But Christ shows us that to withdraw, to contemplate, can actually be a tremendous show of strength. Even the fiercest dogs wait for the command of their master before they act.
 
For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with the wisdom of human eloquence. — 1 Corinthians 1:17