There will come a day, I pray, where I will field the questions of my adult children. Lord, if it is Your will, my children will grow up to be adults in a country that allows them the freedom to look back on this moment in history and learn about it as simply that… a moment in history. A war. A movement. A blip.
Heavenly Father, I am begging you that for my nine year old daughter these years will be a time where she faintly remembers masks and the reemergence of American flags, and for my seven and five year old sons, they hardly recall the war fought on their behalf—the battle fought to spare them a war. Yes, I pray that one day in the future I will field the questions from my adult children; questions about what it was like and whether or not I was afraid. Questions about elections and rallies and insurrections, questions about Marxism and what it felt like to be shamed, censored, and “othered.”
Each morning, as I walk and talk to God, I pray that the time will come where I will share stories with my grandkids. I pray for a future so far away from these divisive times that I struggle to recall the details of the tweets, the horrors, the fights, the words exchanged, the disappointments, the restless nights, the friends lost. I pray that I will not only be able to tell them the truth about what it was like to live through this battle for freedom, this battle between good and evil, but I pray that they exist… these future grandkids. I pray there is a future for them to exist in.
Although I pray for a future where such questions will come from the other side, I don’t wonder about the answers. I know which side of history I stand on. When they ask me—the kids and grandkids—if I was afraid, I’ll be honest. I’m afraid. But I don’t have a spirit of fear. When they ask if I stayed quiet while others were fired, ostracized, censored, labeled, segregated, forced, slandered, hated, worse… I know what my answer will be. When they ask me if I stood up for what was right, despite the cost, I know I’ll have a story to share. I know I won’t look back with regret. I know, because I will stand.
When they ask me about the school boards, I will tell them I stood up. When they ask me about medical freedom, I will tell them I stood up. When they ask me about lockdowns and masks and tyranny and non-compliance and camps and laws and arrests, I know what I will say.
And when they ask me what I gave up…
… It’s what I gained, I’ll respond.
I don’t know what will come to pass between now and the hypothetical then. I don’t know how bad it will get or how far we will fall. I don’t know what atrocities I will witness, what unimaginable things will become commonplace, or what prices I will have to pay before I am asked those far off distant questions. But I do know one thing is for certain.
I know there will come a day where I will stand before my Father in Heaven. And I’m certain He will have questions for me too. When He asks me if I was courageous… if I obeyed Him or complied. When He shows me the moments I was faced with a choice—right or wrong, good or evil… When He asks if I did what was hard or if I looked the other way… Did I stand for Righteousness? Did I lay it all down? Did I trust Him? Did I pray? Did I ACT…
When He asks me what I did… I already know what my answer will be.
I stood.
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