This wasn’t my original plan.

I’m new to this whole article-writing thing, but immediately after I got accepted into Bethel's Odyssey community, a million and one ideas started coming to me. I have a list, and I’m sure they will all end up being written at some point.

I had a different article planned for this week. But that was before the incident at the rock. For those who don’t know, here’s a basic rundown: some Bethel students painted a rock with the words “Black Lives Matter” one day last week, in solidarity with a similar incident that happened at Northwestern. The next day, under the cover of night, some other students covered these words in white spray paint, replacing them with “Blue Lives Matter” and “Black Lives Matter= Racist and Double Standards."

I don’t live on campus—I commute from home. To say that I was shocked to learn of the events when I came to school on Thursday would be an understatement. In my eyes (and, I think, the eyes of a large portion of Bethel’s population), this incident just didn’t fit. I have always viewed Bethel as this safe bubble of Christianity, nestled in the middle of Minnesota Nice territory. This was a place of love, understanding, and acceptance- right?

The idea that such hatred, intolerance and insensitivity could breach this seemingly Spirit-filled place was heartbreaking to me. Philando Castile was shot five minutes away from our safe little college bubble, friends. The reality of that statement did not really sink in until it became clear—there is no anti-hatred force field blocking us off from the real world, no matter how we may like to believe there is.

That day as I walked through the halls, the fear and mistrust and confusion was tangible in the air. I am not black. I am a seventeen year-old white suburban girl. I cannot even pretend to feel half the pain, isolation and separation these people must now feel.

All I can say is that I, for one, am willing to listen. I want to know the hurt, the frustration, the voices of those long-suppressed. I have spent too long in comfort; too long in my safe suburban bubble, too long complacent in these all-too-present social issues. This is real life, and we can only run from our guilt and discomfort for so long before we hit a wall of realization- hatred exists.

Honestly, I don’t know what the next step is. I don’t know where to go from here. I just know that something needs to change. Change does not come easy. It will not be convenient. We might have to interrupt our current way of life in order to bring it about. Ask yourself: are you really willing to do that?

God never calls us to do the convenient thing, does he? The Armor of God, outlined in Ephesians 6, includes the shoes of peace- not the couch of peace. We are called to do something. We are called to use our platforms, the gifts God has so graciously given us, to impact our world in a way realer than hatred will ever be; He calls us to love one another.

So this is me, using my platform to take my stand—interrupting my plan, giving way to His Plan. It’s a risk, I know. But love is worth it.