Responding in reactionary times
The cost of caring too much, living values, and safeguarding spaces
I want to take a moment to acknowledge something. Maybe you’ve noticed, too:
There’s just so much happening.
Do you feel it? I mean really, in your bones and soles of your feet and back of your neck feel it?
Do you feel it on the individual cramps, behind-the-eye headaches, finger tingling, emotions whirling level? The family get the kid to practice, what’s for dinner, are the taxes done, what are we doing this weekend level? On the community does it feel like part of the country thinks it’s falling apart and/or burning down and another part is celebrating its best days level? I do.
There is so much happening. And, we were never meant to take it all in. Most of us live in a near-perpetual state of overwhelm, nervous systems dysregulated and pushed out of our windows of tolerance into a state of free fall.
And, we think it’s normal.
“This is just how life is,” we say to ourselves. Not really accepting this as truth, it feels more like a resignation than an active or conscious choice.
We weren’t meant to live this way. Maybe more importantly, we can’t.
Like, literally.
Our minds, souls, and bodies aren’t made to handle this amount of information, overwhelm, dysregulation. Carlos Whittaker writes in his latest book, Reconnected, that our souls and our psyche don't have the capacity to consume the amount of content we consume. Studies show that the average American consumes more content and information the first 15 minutes we're awake than our great grandparents consumed in a month.1 It’s too much.
It’s not that all the information we can access isn’t important. It is. And, we weren’t meant to know it all or know how to deal with it all.
I can’t care about everything. If I try, my body will be overwhelmed by the sheer immensity of it all. I would spend the rest of my days *gesturing wildly* to *all the things* and collapsing under the weight of my inability to do anything about almost all of it.
As a pseudo-content creator (ick), I also recognize the world we’ve built for ourselves. Eyeballs lead to clicks, which lead to showing up in the almighty algorithm, which lead to exposure, followers, and whatever else. There are marketing calendars and “social media experts” who tell you what to post and when. Content farms churn out posts and reels meant to capture your attention. (I can’t. I don’t.)
You know what always scores the highest?
Outrage content. The angrier or more afraid a post can make you, the better it will perform. The more I can get you to react, the more likely you are to engage with the post, resulting in more shares, comments, likes, and the eventual unicorn of viral status. The more negative, the better.
We are all guilty of it. I know I am. And for the last five years, I’ve noticed the effect it’s had on me. My body. My mind, My heart. And I’m tired.
America’s Government Teacher (and conscience) writes about this on her Instagram account.2 She writes quite simply, “Outrage content is harmful.”3
She goes on to share that not only does it “waste time and energy that could be spent improving a situation that needs addressing in the world,” it negatively affects the mental health of creators. It’s a cheap and quick boost that feels good for a moment, and has no lasting positive effect. It changes nothing for the better and “requires no actual effort on our parts.”
Hot takes and outrage content may fuel clicks and engagement, but it’s not healthy or helpful in the long term.
Perhaps you also saw her recently share this C.S. Lewis quote from Mere Christianity:
“Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance.
The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of.
An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attack otherwise impossible.”
This is how I want to live. Little decisions of infinite importance. Small acts of good. I refuse to be ruled by anger and fear, or to manipulate others who are already dysregulated to stay that way.
It costs too much to react to all the things. I don’t know about you, but my body wasn’t meant to know or be aware of it all anyway.
Healing can’t happen in spaces where I’m constantly and intentionally pushed toward dysregulation.
You know what I’d rather see? Beauty. Slow moments. Lichen forming on rocks. Sunlight filtering through the branches onto patches of growing grass. Tiny flowers growing in my unmowed lawn. My eighteen-month-old finding delight in magnet tiles on the dining room floor next to where I work.
Fill my algorithm with books and music and nature.
Sign me up for funny memes and Pride and Prejudice scene reenactments4 and nerdy science jokes. Give me art and writing and sunsets over big parking lots. Glimmers.5 Counterweights.6
Here’s what I’m not going to do: react.
When I work with coaching clients, I often vocalize one of my goals in working with them is to move away from instinctive reactions and toward thoughtful responses. A reflex is easy. It requires little on my part. It also creates habits and patterns of behavior when I repeat those reactions over and over. Eventually, it becomes my default. It’s mindless.
I want to be thoughtful. To know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. I want to move away from the reactions. To pause long enough to recognize what I’m about to do, examine it with curiosity, and possibly choose another line of thought or course of action that better aligns with our values:7
Curiosity over Certainty: approaching life and faith with open hands, hearts, and minds by asking hard questions, actively listening, and thinking critically. Meeting doubt and disagreement with respect and dignity
People over Position: preferring proximity to polarization, avoiding a posture of othering and affirming our common humanity and divine diversity.
Agency over Prescription: working to restore and reclaim agency, offering dignity and worth, honoring voices and stories, and encouraging the empowerment of each individual.
Goodness over Wickedness: affirming the original goodness of every human being and rejecting a theology that shames, demeans, and devalues.
Connection over Isolation: functioning as an integrated and whole body of Christ, with no one telling the other they don’t belong. Moving toward connection and community
Wholeness over Brokenness: inviting everyone to bring all their broken pieces to the table, and living in recognition and awareness of all our light and shadows, and moving toward integrity.
Responding over Reacting: this post is all about how I’m hoping to live.
So where is this all going?
I’ve been working for some months now on putting together the language for a safeguarding and reporting policy for Broken to Beloved.
It came to my attention a while ago that some resources I’d previously shared may have come from abusive sources. It felt important.
As I opened up our THROUGH Cohort last month, I was asked by an applicant if I would be quoting or sharing from a specific book and author. They were asking because this was written by their abuser. Thankfully, I hadn’t heard of the book or author. Now a safeguarding and reporting policy felt like a priority.
In the last few days, many of us have heard about another investigation and response in the spiritual abuse and deconstruction space that has left some shocked, and many unsurprised. Having a policy in place now feels urgent.
So, I’m here to tell you I’m working on it.
Our board is aware I’m working on it, and have been aware along the way of the reasons why I feel it’s important. That, and as an organization that wants to help others and provide practical resources for safeguarding against spiritual abuse, we should have a policy in place for our own accountability. It will be the main topic of discussion at our upcoming board meeting later this month.
I’ve been meeting with other friends and organizational leaders in this space to talk about existing documents, best practices, and how to navigate these kinds of things with wisdom, grace, and compassion.
While I don’t have that policy in place yet, I’d like to share with you what I’m thinking about so you know where my head is:
When someone comes forward with a story or allegation of abuse, my default position is to believe them.
It takes so much courage to come forward with your story, it is often more traumatizing to work up that courage and find yourself disbelieved, dismissed, and discredited.
Trust is earned, never owed.
Neither I nor Broken to Beloved deserve (or desire) your loyalty.
Sharon McMahon again: “No person, place, project, or organization is deserving of your unexamined loyalty.”8
In a recent conversation, a friend (I think we’re friends?) and someone I deeply admire and trust shared how we must sometimes be disloyal to those we know and even love, including ourselves, in pursuit of truth and justice.
I and my Board are not perfect and will absolutely fail you at some point, if we haven’t already. And I hope when we do, we will own it.
We are not in the business of creating outrage content. I want to resist reaction videos and hot takes. I’m not here for inflammatory language that pits us against them. I’m wary of extreme words meant to grab my attention and overly simplified listicles.
I want to be thoughtful and measured in how I approach complicated and nuanced topics. I want to live according to the values I worked so hard to capture and articulate, and which still feel very alive and malleable.
And, I will get it wrong. I sincerely hope that when I do, I can set aside my self preservation and defensive posture to listen and hope you feel heard. To repent and own my complicity and action. To grieve and lament the negative effects I have had on you. And to make it right in a way that feels restorative.
I want to create something beautiful. To seek out and find beauty. To point out all the glimmers and counterweights. To provide hope, healing, and wholeness for anyone seeking it. And I want to do it together.
Whittaker, Carlos. Reconnected. Thomas Nelson, 2024.
I am a proud Governerd through and through. If you’re not familiar with Sharon’s work, I highly recommend it, including her debut book, The Small and the Mighty.
McMahon, Sharon. “Outrage Content Is Harmful.” Instagram, 5 Mar. 2021, www.instagram.com/p/C3aigxvutJV/?img_index=1&igsh=czIwb3ozNW81dzd5. Accessed 18 Mar. 2025.
If you’re a fan of the BBC version and humor, check out Ben Fensome on Instagram. I laugh every time.
This is the work of Deb Dana. I’ve learned about it from many accounts, and also from her book, Anchored.
There are a few podcast episodes that go further into these values.
McMahon, Sharon. “People and Groups Can Always Go Awry. Your Calling Won’t Steer You Wrong.” Instagram, 16 Feb. 2024, www.instagram.com/p/DGzN5f8J0X1/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==. Accessed 18 Mar. 2025.