Purpose and Legacy

by Roseanna | Jun 19, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

A couple weeks ago, my daughter and I were driving out to meet my parents and grandmother for lunch, and we were talking about what Xoe might want to do after college. She still dreams of writing and illustrating, yes, but she knows it could take a while for that to pay the bills. And, she said, her Bible study group had been talking a lot about making sure what they choose to do matters. That whatever profession they pursue, it’s a service to others.

I smiled to hear her saying this, because it’s something David and I have talked about endlessly over the years. (I didn’t point out that she’s no doubt heard us talking about this approximately a thousand times, LOL. I totally get she has to encounter it for herself, in her own life, in her own way, and make it her own through that encounter.)

As we drove, we talked through how the path she’s considering–linguistics–indeed is (or can be) a huge service, how it can make a difference. How important communication and understanding really is.

That evening, as David and I were driving to a book study at church, I relayed bits of my conversation with Xoe, and he added to it a question he’d just heard on a podcast that day. A question that neither of us had ever thought to ask before about our businesses:

“Where do you see your business being in three hundred years.”

That one got a pause from me, I’ll admit it. I was expecting three years. Maybe even thirty. But three hundred? Wow. That’s a scope I’d never considered. How many businesses even make it that long?

But it’s a question that makes the mind start spinning, isn’t it?

In three hundred years, will we, all our work, be forgotten? Or will we have made a lasting impression on the world? Obviously we aren’t all going to participate in country-shaping events or become national heroes or set records that will still be set then. But are we building legacies that last, doing service that will make a mark?

Honestly, we haven’t yet talked through what that would mean for our company, but given that we work in books, it’s a concept worth exploring. Books can last long beyond the writers go home to be with the Lord. Our words, our thoughts, the stories that have shaped our hearts can continue to shape others. If.

If.

If they’re stories that continue to resonate. If they elucidate a truth that can shine through the darkness for ages to come. If we speak to the unchanging heart of humanity.

Will any of our books outlast us that long? Any of mine? Will our company live on after we do? I don’t know.

But it’s worth working for. Worth writing for. Worth reading for.

I don’t write the books I do so that future generations will read them–honestly, I have no idea if my books will continue to be of interest to people in decades or centuries to come. So many are being published these days, mine are just a few among many. One voice in a multitude. I believe that voice matters, and I will follow the call of the Lord to use it, to keep sharing the stories He gives me.

And I will give them my all. I will make them the best I can. I will strive, always, to share His truth–because that is what lasts decades, centuries, millennia. My deepest prayer is to partake of that, of Him.

The day after those conversations with Xoe and David, we had a power outage in the evening. Two different people that week had mentioned reading and loving The Shadow’s Song, one of my biblicals for Guideposts that came out a couple years ago. I couldn’t honestly remember much of the book–I hadn’t read it since I first turned it in. So, with nothing else I could really do but with a fully-charged laptop battery, I opened up my file and started reading.

This was a book I wrote quickly, as one of many due that year. It’s short. Didn’t take me long to read. But as I read it, I had so many moments where I thought, “Wow, that was really insightful. Whoa, I didn’t even remember that. Hey, this is actually really good.” LOL. Silly, I know, for one of my own books…but important. Important to remind myself that even these quick little stories that I write in the course of a week mean something. They still have my heart in them and, more importantly, seek the Lord’s.

That’s what I have to make sure everything does. All the work of my hands. All the work of my mind. All the work of my soul. Only when it points to Him is it worthy. Only then will it stand the test of time.

Everything we do needs to have that purpose. And that is when we know we’ll leave a legacy behind us.

Rearranged

by Roseanna | Jun 12, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

When I was a kid, there was little I enjoyed more than rearranging spaces. There was only so much I could do on my own, of course, but as I got bigger, I loved extending it to furniture, not just toys. I couldn’t tell you how many times my mom and I shoved couches and chairs around in the living room…sometimes for a purpose, but often just because we were ready for a change.

As an adult with more things than room to put them in, I don’t rearrange as often, it’s true. But I still do for Christmas, to make room for the tree, or when I just can’t handle a current arrangement anymore.

A few weeks ago, our daughter Xoe came home from college for the summer. We love having her home, obviously, but it does mean that my lease on her room for my office expires for the summer, LOL, so I have to move back out to the tiny little desk in the kitchen that I’m pretty sure was meant for a ten year old.

I’ll be honest, guys. This area was a MESS. Yes, it deserves both capitals and italics. Total, complete mess. The desk had become the catch-all for mail and some of my work stuff that I carried out on Spring Break and then never did anything with. Under the desk, all my cloth shopping bags had been shoved in what began with order but had become haphazard. In front of the desk were a myriad of “good boxes” that we hadn’t thrown out yet, plumbing supplies from where my husband had just finished fixing the sink but hadn’t yet gotten around to storing the things again, and various new purchases that hadn’t yet found their home.

Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly looking forward to tackling it…and yet I couldn’t wait to tackle it.

So while David drove down to Annapolis to fetch Xoe and her dorm room, I stayed home to clear out of her bedroom and make space for myself again in the kitchen.

I started, oddly, not in the kitchen at all, but in the utility closet. Since we moved into this house, that utility closet had been dubbed “the cat room.” It housed the litter boxes, in addition to the water heater and softener and various other utility things. We’d at first hung some coats in there but quickly learned that coat rack + cat litter = dusty clothes no one wanted to wear. But it’s so out-of-sight that I pretty much forgot they were even in there, so yes, we still had coats hanging from ten years ago. Well, now that we are pet-less, I decided it was time to put this space to different use. I emptied the litter boxes, cleaned them, and stored them. Used some of the enzyme cleaner on the floors and walls. Took down those way-outgrown coats and gave them a nice washing so I could donate them. And then I began repurposing the space. Moved in all the tools and equipment just sitting around the laundry area and in the kitchen. Threw out all those boxes I didn’t need.

Doing that kind of work isn’t exactly fun, but it feels…restorative. Doesn’t it? And if we can find such satisfaction in clearing out our physical spaces, just imagine how we should feel when we do it in our spiritual lives too.

I don’t know about you, but I tend to let habits pile up. I let prejudices just sit there in their corners, rarely even noticing them anymore. I ignore the dust clouds of bias and judgment as they coat my heart. And sin? Yep, sin has a way of just creeping in and permeating, like the stink from who-knows-what in the back of the fridge or the “let’s not try to identify it” stain near where the litter boxes had been.

In our homes, our spaces, we can see these things. In our hearts? Our minds? Our souls? Maybe they’re less visible at a glance. But that doesn’t meant they’re not there. We just need the eyes to see them.

But we get used to the way things are. Have you ever noticed that? Once something is in one place for a while, we don’t see it anymore. It becomes background noise. We may even be perfectly happy with how things are, content with our arrangement. But a stranger coming into our house, they would see it. They’d notice.

Before we host things like birthday parties here, I always start at the door through which people will enter and really look at what they’ll see–and clean accordingly. I rearrange. I change.

What if we did that more often with ourselves? What if we really think about what people will see when they first meet us–not our hair or clothes, but our spirits? What are we exuding? Who do we show them? What if we honestly evaluated whether we display the love of Christ to everyone we meet, or if maybe instead they see first our biases, our judgy attitudes, or our self-righteousness?

But it doesn’t stop with the evaluation or even the cleaning, right? Once I cleared out all the clutter, it was time to really rearrange–to make things new. I started by moving a small shelf off the top of my tiny desk to underneath it, where the bags had been but now resided in the utility room. Then I enlisted the help of my engineering-minded son to build a little fake extension, so that I could use the funny-shaped triangular space between the end of my desk and a bookshelf (my space is in a little angular window nook) as extra desk space instead of just a place for things to fall and be lost to the abyss. Yes, I absolutely built this with cardboard and a stack of books, LOL. But hey, it works, and it gives me a place to put my pens and cell phone holder without using precious real-desk space that I need for my laptop, planner, and tablet.

After we clear out any lingering sins or bad habits or prejudices from our souls, we’re not done there either. We need to replace those things with better things. Remember when Jesus is talking about casting out demons, and he says that tidying the soul just makes it a more inviting place for that demon to return with friends? Yep. Cleaning out isn’t enough. We need to FILL ourselves. With what?

With Him. With Christ. With the Holy Spirit. With His love. With His light. We need to be so full-to-bursting with His presence that there’s no room for the clutter of pride or selfishness, greed or disdain to enter in.

Then, when people meet us, it’s like a visitor entering into your house and seeing not only spotless spaces, but smelling the fragrance of a lit candle or something delicious in the oven.

That’s who I want to be. The kind of person that people meet and are immediately left with a smile on their faces. I want to be the kind of person that makes others want to linger. I want to be the kind of person that draws others, not because of who I am, but because of Who is shining through me.

I still have some rearranging to do in my house. But honestly, I’m more concerned about my heart. What work do we still have to do inside us, to make us into places where Jesus can not only dwell, but through which His love can brightly shine?

One Year

by Roseanna | May 22, 2025 | Cancer Journey, Thoughtful Thursdays

One year ago, on Monday, May 13, 2024, I had my first chemotherapy infusion.

A few days ago, on Monday, May 19, 2025, I had my last protein-blocking injection. The last cancer treatment. I am DONE.

A couple weeks ago, in mid-April, I got a text from one of my cousins–the one closest to me in age, just a month older than me. It was not a text I ever wanted to see from her. It said, I need to ask you to pray for me please. I had a biopsy done earlier this week on a spot in one of my breasts. The pathology report just came back and it’s not good. Carcinoma.

On the one-year anniversary of me receiving my diagnosis, she had her biopsy done. Two days later, she had her diagnosis. Not a club we ever wanted to be members of together. And not an anniversary we ever wanted to share. But in the days and weeks following, we had so many text conversations. We talked about cancer, about the anger and frustration that hits, when we feel like our bodies–the bodies we’ve tried so hard to take care of with good food and exercise–betray us. We talked about treatment options and surgery decisions…and then we’d share silly memes about random things just to laugh.

When I realized my one-year mark was approaching, I intended to do a reflection on the twelve months that have gone by. I didn’t expect to be walking through it with a friend and relative. And I certainly wouldn’t have wished this upon her. (For reference, her cancer is slow-growing and still small, and her treatment will be much different from mine, likely not even requiring chemo. Praise God! She’s having a lumpectomy today, with radiation to follow.) But you know…somehow this new tragedy just reminds me of God’s faithfulness all the more. Because as I talk through everything with her, I get to look back on it from my perspective now:

Healed.
Delivered.
Thriving.

And I get to remember how His Light led me through every shadow. I get to consider her question of “How has the psychological aspect of mastectomy been for you? Has it been a roller coaster?” with even more perspective than I had when I wrote my “The Me I See” post just a couple weeks post-surgery. This is what I said to her:

“I knew I made the right decision for me. And knowing that left me feeling like this was the me that I chose, the me that has the best chance of being healthy, the me empowered to live a full life.”

When I look back over the past year, it’s with a strange sort of fondness. It’s with gratitude. Don’t misunderstand–I hate cancer. I never want to go through it again, and every decision I made was to improve my chances of never going through it again (rather than “least invasive”). It was physically miserable. I felt sick for three months straight, I was so tired I often had to take two naps a day, and there were countless days when I wished I could just forget all the work that needed done and curl up with a book or a television show and indulge in that misery.

But I met so many amazing people, and getting to see them every three weeks made them friends. I learned so much about the faithfulness of God, and of His Church. I was endlessly encouraged by the love and care of both friends and strangers. My husband and I grew even closer, our love tunneling deeper into our souls. I had a way to relate to people that I’ve never had before–other members of this club no one ever wants to join. I learned so much, about myself and the world and the cancer itself.

I got through six intense rounds of chemotherapy, spaced three weeks apart.
I got through a bilateral mastectomy with lymph node dissection.
I got through 15 radiation therapy sessions.
I got through an additional 11 injections of the protein-blocking drug geared toward my particular cancer (this was part of the chemo sessions too, but these two drugs don’t make me sick like the chemo did)–that’s what I just finished up.

What’s left now? Final reconstruction in a couple months. And then…then, just check-ups every three months, then six months, then every year.

The last time I met with my oncology team, I was reminded that this particular form of breast cancer, the HER2-positive, protein-fed type, is agressive. It grows fast, and it recurrs more than hormone-fed cancers. I’ll admit it. That reminder sent a pang of fear through me.

I don’t want this to come back. I don’t want to do this again. Please, God, protect me from that.

I have no real reason to fear. I had a “total response” to chemo, meaning NO cancer cells were found in any scans or in the pathology from surgery. This is best-case-scenario. This means that any cancer cells floating around were likely eliminated as well, which means my chance of recurrence are lower. And the radiation therapy was one more weapon against it. But there are never any guarantees.

There are never guarantees in life. I always knew that, but now I know it in a new way. Now I know that every day, every month, every year is a walk of faith. It’s clinging to His hand and trusting.

Trusting that I’ll stay healthy, yes.
But also trusting that if I don’t, He is no less able. No less God. No less loving.

Trusting that if it’s His will, I could fight this battle again and win. Or fight this battle and end up in His arms. Either way, I will trust. Trust His will. Trust in His best-for-me.

Again, going through it again would obviously not be my will, and I absolutely pray it will never happen.

But I already faced down those fears, last year. Every scan, every test, every unknown was a chance for me to look Death in the face and say, “My Redeemer lives, and I live with Him. In here or in heaven, I live with Him.” Every day of misery was a day to say, “I still have work to do for Him. And when He does call me home, it will be with the trust that someone else will take up that work. But for now? For now, I do the work with what strength He gives me.”

It was not a year I want to repeat. And yet it was a year of profound blessing. It was a year of deeper faith, of greater friendships, of unfathomable love.

As I write this, tears well in the eyes of this girl-who-rarely-cries. Because friends, this year was the worst and the best. This year was fear and salvation. This year was exhaustion and triumph. This year was vulnerability and humility.

And this year is over. The year of cancer, complete. Treatments done.

Now…now I walk. I walk forward, into the rest of my life. I walk with my hand in God’s. And I walk with my eyes trained on those around me, ready to hold out that hand when other diagnoses come. Because they will–they already have. So, so many friends face this.

Last year, I wrote about how “Pink Isn’t My Color” and I will NOT be defined by breast cancer. And that still holds true. I am so much more than cancer. I still claim purple as MY color, not pink. Purple, because it was always the color of my dreams. The color of royalty.

And I am a daughter of the King. That is still my core identity. I am who He made me. Woman, daughter, sister, writer, wife, mom, friend. Survivor. That gets its place on the list, yes. Because while cancer is not part of my identity, fighter is. Warrior is. I didn’t volunteer for the battle, but I waged it, and I pray I waged it well.

Now, I walk this path with a chemo port still in my chest (that stays for a year, grumble grumble) but with no more treatments looming. I walk this path with a body that’s still too weak and joints that have decided to ache and hot flashes that may not go away (apparently in women over 40, chemo often results in menopause. Sometimes it’s temporary and cycles return…sometimes they don’t. We’ll just have to wait and see) and one more surgery to go. The tissue expanders still hurt whenever there’s pressure on them. My pectoral muscles, now over those expanders, still get tight and sore. I still can’t reach to zip up my dresses all the way, like I used to be able to do. My hair is a whopping 2-inches long, and my eyebrows and lashes are thin.

I’m not the same person I was a year ago, in many ways. Physical ways. Mental ways too.

Because though my body is weaker right now, my spirit is stronger. Though I don’t look like the me I was before, I look like the me I fought for. I am changed. And praise God for it.

I don’t know what the future will hold, for me or anyone I love. I don’t know where this year will take me, or the next, or the next. I don’t know if this was my one battle or if someday, I’ll fight it again. I don’t know if I’ll have to stand by the side of people I love to my core and hold their hand as they fight.

But I know that I don’t have to know. I know I am in God’s hand. I know that each day, all I have to do is the work He sets before me.

Praise you, Lord, for every shadow. Praise you for every day of weakness. Praise you for the valley. Praise you for the fear. Praise you for the disappointments. Praise you for the pain.

Because it has allowed me to praise you even more for the Light. To praise you for the strength you give. To praise you for the mountaintops. To praise you for the trust. To praise you for the joys. To praise you for the healing.

Praise you, Lord, for the victory. Not mine–yours. Today, I walk into tomorrow. Because you’ve given me that gift. Help me to walk worthy, Lord. Help me to walk well. Help my tomorrows to be exactly what you want them to be.

Amen.

How to Have a Conversation: A Primer

by Roseanna | May 15, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

We learn as toddlers how to talk. But somehow, many of us are no longer taught how to have an actual, earnest, honest, and respectful conversation. Given the deep divides these days, we need the skill more than ever…and have it less than ever.

So today, I’m going to share the things I learned at my college, where we have conversations for 4 years on foundational texts of western society, whether we agree with the text or our fellow students or not. And what I’ve learned in the meantime. We’re going to take a lighthearted approach rather than an academic one.

Because, y’all…whew! It’s shouty out there!

How to Have a Conversation…Instead of a Shouting Match

In 15 Easy Steps

1. The goal is not to WIN. The goal is to LEARN. (Repeat this ten times before you begin and as needed throughout a conversation.)

2. “I have some things right. I have some things wrong.” (Repeat this three times silently before you even begin.)

3. The purpose of listening is not to find the flaw in the argument. The purpose of listening is to understand not only what they’re saying, but why they’re saying it.

4. I will not aim any of the following words and phrases at any other member of the conversation: Moron, Idiot, Liar, Shame on you, How dare you, You’re deluded, Are you blind?, Are you deaf?, Are you crazy?, Insane, Stupid, Disgrace…you get the idea. If it is shouted on a primary school playground, it does not belong in our conversation.

5. I will not assume the problem is with THEIR understanding; first I will assume the problem is with MINE (see Rule 6).

6. When I don’t understand a point, I will ask for clarification instead of assuming the speaker is a moron (see Rule 4).

7. We do not agree on everything. Whoever we are. But we can still be friends.

8. We are not “agreeing to disagree.” We are agreeing that we have much to learn from each other, and that we are each made richer by learning the other’s perspective.

9. I will not judge a PERSON because of an IDEA they express.

10. I can step away if it gets too emotional. I would rather be silent and think things through for a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even longer, than to damage a relationship and deliberately hurt someone else (see Rule 7).

11. I am responsible for my tongue. I am responsible for the things I say. I am responsible for their consequences. I will think before I speak.

12. (If you are a person of faith) When I have a quick, knee-jerk, emotional reaction, before I respond, I will PRAY. I will pray first for MY OWN HEART, that God will give me a spirit of understanding and humility and grace, that He will convict me of any wrongdoing on my own part. And then I will pray for the other person or people (FOR them, not ABOUT them).

(If you are NOT a person of faith) When I have a quick, knee-jerk, emotional reaction, before I respond, I will pause to think. I will examine first MY OWN HEART and consider whether my gut response is one of understanding, empathy, and humility, or pride. I will ask myself WHY the other person holds the opinions they do, and if perhaps they’re coming from a place of hurt as well. I will ask if I have contributed to this hurt.

13. I will always remember that the people I’m conversing with are no less worthy of respect, no less worthy of honor, no less worthy of love than I am. Their opinion is no less valid than mine.

14. I will not just make statements. I will ask questions.

15. I will endeavor to see a person’s heart rather than look for an excuse to tear them down. I will assume they are saying what they believe to be true. I will assume they do not intend to hurt me.

Grappling

by Roseanna | May 8, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time grappling with facts I don’t like.

Sometimes they’re medical. Sometimes they’re scientific. Sometimes they’re political. Or dealing with a particular policy. Sometimes it’s my own kids.

Sometimes it’s my own heart.

I think we’ve all been there. I’ll give just one, very personal, example.

I am pro-life. I’m even more pro-life than lots of Christians, because my personal conviction is that, if it were me, I would not consider rape or incest to be a reason to abort. Because I believe every life is that sacred. (This is a belief that leads me through other stances too, on everything from assisted suicide to how to react to someone coming violently into my home.) I am well past the point where I think I have to force my opinion on anyone else, or for that matter, that this nuance-free opinion holds for anyone but me. My conviction–not yours. And it’s an untested, untried conviction. So who knows if it would change if my circumstances did? As I learn more? But I digress. (And I don’t bring this up to debate those fine points right now, LOL.)

Because I’m pro-life, I’ve always been appalled at the Roe V. Wade ruling, especially as I read things explaining how it’s bad law. I’ve been horrified at the fact that the same teenage girl who needs parental permission to take Tylenol at school can be given an abortion without parental knowledge. (Makes no sense to me. But again, not the point here, LOL.)

So a month or so ago, I asked my statistics-loving-husband to look at the math for me. How can we track abortion rates against legislation? I was ready for my point to be proven: When we encourage good decisions, we see less abortion.

My husband spent a good long while digging into studies, comparing them, looking at the methods used to gather the data…all those things that make my eyes cross but bring him endless, incomprehensible-to-me delight. And then he said, “You’re not going to like this.”

Because what he found was not what I wanted to be true. He found that, in fact, the stricter the laws, the more abotions are being performed. When pro-life politicians are in charge, abortions increase.

Well, he was right. I don’t like this.

Now, let’s clarify that this is nationwide data–because while some states’ rates are down because they outlawed it or have greater restrictions on what’s possible, all states have not. So people cross state lines. I live in West Virginia, but it’s really easy to just drive to Maryland. And such is the case most places.

Again, I’m not bringing this up because of the issue of abortion, or to lead to the argument of “Well just make it illegal everywhere!”–I’m bringing it up as an example of how I grapple with things. Here’s how my internal thought processes went:

No. I don’t want to believe that.
But it’s true.
I don’t want it to be true. Can I just…not believe it?
Don’t be a moron, Roseanna. Denying it doesn’t change that it’s true, and it doesn’t solve the problem.
Okay, fine. (Tyrant!) Let’s think it through. What do I learn from this data?
I learn that changing a law doesn’t change behavior.
Hmm. I think it’s even more than that. I think I learn that strict laws about things that label people (like “sinner” or “slut” or “easy” or “shameful” or “bastard” or “illegitimate” and hence “unworthy, unlovable, inexcusable, undesirable, unacceptable” cause fear. Panic. And those things lead to more of the behavior that I find deplorable.
Another truth I don’t like.
Right?! Because it takes the easy answer (legislation) off the table–if something causes MORE of the thing I want it to cause LESS of, then it’s not working. Which leaves us where?
With hard answers. Like…
Like actually changing hearts.
And it gets worse–we need to not just convince people of a point of view, we have to actually provide an answer to help them battle their fear and reduce their panic.
That takes a lot of work.
Mm hmm. And not just with or for THEM. Not just the physical work. It takes emotional work in ME. Because I have to be willing to meet those women in their grief. I need to be able to cry with them in fear of the future. I need to be willing to get down in the muck with them and promise to be with them as I try to help them stand again…and mean it. Not just say it. Mean it.

I bring this up because our country is in a lot of turmoil right now as different groups shout for change. One side hates this policy. Another hates that policy. Both, if they’re being honest, probably have things where they have to grapple with sides of the argument that they don’t like. Don’t want to be true.

We can deny the truth. But it doesn’t solve the problem.

We can keep trying to legislate our point of view. But that doesn’t ever change the other point of view.

We can tell the other voices to shut up and remove them. But that doesn’t build peace. That builds resentment that will backfire.

We can just get rid of policies that aren’t working. But that doesn’t solve the root problems that led to them.

So I’m going to posit this: If we condemn something, we have to also think through an alternative to the very real problems that “something” is trying to address. It’s not enough to ban it–be it abortion, DEI, books, ideas, rights, definitions, or “bad law.” Whatever “it” might be, that doesn’t work. All it does is make divisions run deeper, tribalism grow stronger, “us versus them” prevail, hatred spin out of control, bitterness fester, and ideals turn into violence.

We have to grapple with the truth: if the Good we are pursuing is not accomplished by the measures we have taken, we need to change the measures. But we can’t stop there. We have to find something that works.

This holds true for ALL of us, both sides of the aisle, conservative or liberal. We cannot shout about our rights and yet knowingly trample on others. We can never achieve justice by injustice. And we cannot let ourselves fall into the trap of “I’ll do this thing I hate in order to stop someone else from doing it first or doing it worse.”

Friends, that is not the path of righteousness. That is not the path of peace. That is not the Way of the Cross. That does not save hearts. That does not preach the Gospel. That does seek His kingdom. It seeks our own.

I really want to just be able to set good rules, for people to follow them, and for it to make the world a beautiful place. And to be sure, we need rules and laws and guidelines for a country! But we all have to grapple with the reality that it doesn’t always work.

Sometimes it’s going to be “my” laws that fail. Sometimes it’s going to be “theirs.”

What would happen if, instead of crowing about it when it’s them, we sat down and said, “Okay. So let’s get back to the problems that started it all. What’s another solution?” instead of just tearing each other down?

It’s not easy. I don’t like doing it. But you know…when we do…I think we draw a little closer to the Kingdom of God.

Canceled

by Roseanna | May 1, 2025 | Thoughtful Thursdays

Let’s talk about Helen Keller.

You’ve probably heard of her. As a child, a fever left her both blind and deaf and yet she went on to become famous for being an author and activist for those with disabilities. I imagine you, like me, have heard her story and have stood amazed at how this brave soul overcame her obstacles.

When I learned that she was an author banned by the Nazis, it made sense to me–my research had included the sad fact that children born with disabilities were being forcibly euthanized by the late 1930s in Germany, and to my mind, it would make sense that they’d want to get rid of evidence like this woman who had overcome her disabilities and inspired others to do the same.

Turns out, I was missing a step. They didn’t start by banning all books by Helen Keller (though they did by the end–the final Nazi ban list is of authors, not titles). Nope. They started by banning one. It was called How I Became a Socialist.

I’ll admit it. I didn’t realize Helen Keller was a socialist. And when I saw this a couple weeks ago, do you know what my first reaction was? My heart sank. I drew back. And I thought, Okay, maybe she’s not the best example to start my series on books-banned-by-Nazi-Germany leading up to the release of The Collector of Burned Books. I’ll keep looking.

But then, over the next few days, my own reaction kept haunting me.

Why was I willing to dismiss someone’s story just because I don’t agree with her politics? Especially when the socialism she subscribed to hadn’t even been experimented with yet? She believed in an idea. Other people (myself included) disagree with that idea. But either way, she is still a remarkable person who did remarkable things and made a HUGE difference in this world. And even if she subscribed to it knowing what I deem its failings…the same questions stand.

Does one opinion, stance, or belief define a whole person? Is it reason to condemn a person? To stop listening to them entirely? To cancel them? To ban them?

Years ago, when what we’ve come to call “cancel culture” really began to gain ground, I spoke out against it. At the time, some of “my” books and understandings were being challenged or condemned or removed. Suddenly Gone with the Wind was on the “out” list, as was To Kill a Mockingbird, and of course, Huckleberry Finn. And I cried out, “NO! We have to keep reading these books! Even when we don’t think like they do anymore, we HAVE to keep reading these books! They teach us so much about our history and the viewpoints they had and why they had them and why we DON’T anymore!”

At St. John’s College, where I went to school, we read the foundational texts of western society. Something many students find odd at first is that in our science classes, we read people whose theories have been completely disproven. We read people who are WRONG. Even as 21st century students who KNOW they are wrong. We know the entire universe does not revolve around the earth. We know, for that matter, that the heavens are not a physical dome that surrounds the earth, on which stars move around just for us. We know that our blood does not sneak from one chamber of the heart to another through pores.

So why do we read those “wrong” texts?

Because without knowing where we came from, we cannot understand where we are.

Read that sentence again.

I cannot appreciate and deeply understand the “correct” facts if I don’t know how we got here. What it’s built on. What we used to believe. And this is important in science, because we’re always learning more. How can we reason our way through new, conflicting theories if we don’t understand the foundation? And that’s what my school focuses on: equipping its students to reason through any argument about any topic. Science, math, literature, philosophy, religion, music…anything.

So “cancel culture” disturbs me at the deepest level. It’s fine not to like a book or idea. It’s great to reason through why and identify where we, and where society, has shifted and changed. To discuss whether those changes are good or bad. This is healthy. This is necessary.

But then tides shift, and those doing the cancelling begin to lose control. What, then, is our response?

All too often throughout human history, our answer is to cancel them right back. “You try to take away my books? Well, take this! I’ll take away yours.” We react exactly like I reacted to Helen Keller. We draw back from the people whose viewpoints don’t exactly align with our own, and we begin to cancel them because of one belief or stance or viewpoint.

Now, there is a lot of nuance to this topic. We cannot read everything. We cannot teach everything. We have to make decisions. And where decisions are made for groups of people, there will be HEATED disagreement. Someone’s going to go away angry, hurt, and feeling victimized. And when it involves our kids? Hoo, boy! Watch out! We’ll be debating this till the end of time, I guarantee it!

So let’s keep it to us. Adults. Christians, even.

What is the godly, Christian response to ideas we don’t agree with? To people who oppose our beliefs? To books that stir up trouble or even hate? Is it to lash out? Strike down? Remove all evidence? Cancel back those who try to cancel us?

I feel like we’re in Ancient Egypt right now, where new pharaohs physically eliminate the evidence of those who came before them. They send out craftsmen with chisels to wipe the very name of their predecessor from any monument.

But then we look at our own Bible. There, for all to see, the writers, inspired by God, memorialize the most heinous of human actions–even actions performed by their own patriarchs. They tell us about incest, rape, and murder. They tell us about prostitutes and adulterers and pagan worshipers. Some stories pass judgment (think of all the times we read “this king acted wickedly in the sight of God”) and other don’t (we never get any indicator of “good” or “bad” in the story of Jacob with his two wives and two concubines). But what we do see are consequences. Consequences of Abraham taking Hagar. Consequences of Jacob having twelve children by four women, all in competition with each other. Consequences of the king given wisdom and riches falling away from God when he takes wives who lead him astray. God still works through and on and in and with them. Thanks be to God!

Hearing and reading those stories is still necessary. Because we have to understand ourselves. Our evil motives as well as our pure. We cannot forget the bad just because it shames us. We cannot remove ideas because we don’t agree with them.

Now, we do have to decide what we promote. What we condone. And again, we’re never all going to agree on that. But even when we teach this thing…we still have to preserve that “other” thing, especially when there are still people who believe it. Especially at certain levels–higher levels. Colleges, universities. Governments. These places, above all, need to preserve. To collect. To explore. To invite reflection. To teach respectful dialogue.

Because when we remove a book…it’s usually not long before we remove the author. When we cancel an idea…it’s usually not long before we cancel the people who hold that idea.

I’m guilty of it. Are you? Is this how God wants us to view each other? His children?

I promise you here and now: we will disagree about something, you and I. Maybe it’s a fine point of faith. Maybe it’s a political view. Maybe it’s got something to do with science or medicine. Maybe it has to do with marriage and divorce. Or abortion. Or whether purple is really the most beautiful color in the world (I mean, duh. 😉 ). Some of our disagreements we’ll laugh over (like colors). Some we’ll be distressed by. All, we can learn from each other about. We can have conversations that aren’t about winning, but about learning.

So I promise you one more thing: I will never cancel you. Even if we agree on nothing, I will not cancel you. I may have to pause, to regroup, like I did with Helen Keller. I may have to pray about my own heart and biases. I may decide that I’ll refrain from certain actions that don’t align with my conscience, even if yours insists it’s great or even necessary. I may even have to step away if “conversation” devolves into “shouting match” and one side or the other is concerned with winning rather than learning. But if so, I’ll do it with respect, and I’ll do it with the hope and prayer that we’ll have another conversation later. Because you are the beloved of the Father. And if Jesus called both a Zealot and a tax collector to His table, I darsay there are both Republicans and Democrats, Conservatives and Liberals, Gay and Straight, Pro-Life and Pro-Choice people there too.

He invites us all. But here’s the thing friends–once there, He calls us all to look at our own hearts. To confess our sins and change the actions that are sinful and displeasing to Him. To love each other, to put aside our differences. To let go of OUR understanding in favor of HIS understanding. We ALL have opinions we need to set down at the foot of the cross. And it takes a lifetime. Probably more, honestly. I imagine we won’t any of us have perfect understanding until we stand before our perfect God and He reveals all to us.

So for now? Let’s default to love, and to looking at our own hearts FIRST. Let’s default not to canceling, but to considering. And let’s never, never make the mistake of dismissing a person because of an idea.

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