Separation

A long, long time ago, I learned that when evil gets quiet—especially after something seems to have tripped it up—that is when I need to be most watchful. Evil’s greatest weapon is separation, the slow work of isolating people. Its greatest weakness is the moment its own loneliness is exposed. Evil desires no contact, no relationship, no depth, no agreement. It is only for itself. So when something goes against evil, when those it has trained to see themselves as disconnected suddenly join forces with those they were recently against, I pay attention. I keep my eyes open, because that is when people can get lost in celebration and miss what else is moving beneath the surface.

When I was severely betrayed—when my legs were cut out from under me by people working alongside me—it happened in a season when everything had finally begun to fall into place. Without naming names or pointing fingers, I was watching growth, movement, right efforts going into the right places. I had just begun to ease. And that was when the other shoe dropped, and I was told that I was alone.

I was so disappointed, so saddened, that I was moved toward discouragement, toward believing that my isolation was the truest thing about my life. I couldn’t lift my head. I could only speak quietly. And that is when I realized I was already on my knees, my head bowed, speaking in secret. I was in a posture of prayer. And so I prayed.

My prayer was simple: What do you want me to learn from this? I knew plainly the mistakes I had made, the places I could have done better. My insides were echoing with failure. I didn’t need to learn what I had done wrong. What I needed to learn was how crowded my life actually was—with love, with trust, with support. Little by little, I learned to admit that this one, that one, these few, the rest of these, all of those, still wanted me by their side. That movement took time. It wasn’t a day. It was a season. But community infiltrated my darkness, speaking assurance and love.

Finding Help

In this season of politics, when power is so lopsided, we must be careful to know our course and stay with it. We cannot overjudge our suddenly “joint” efforts, nor let our celebrations become too triumphant or confrontational. We don’t need to stick anything in anyone’s face, any more than we need to pretend everything is now going our way. What we need is humility—step by step—admiring what is good, what is healthy, what is helpful. And at the same time, we must keep working toward the fullness of community, the betterment of all, as the goal in front of us.

If we continue in that direction, even if evil regains strength and laughs in our faces at our weakness or collapse, we will more easily recognize that we have each other. We will more easily see who is with us. And we will more comfortably stand up and move again. Our community is our strongest shield and our greatest tool. We’ll just be regrouping.