Choosing Love Over Noise

Choosing Love Over Hate

This isn’t a political post—our opinions are our own, and this isn’t the space or platform where I want to dive into that. This is also not a post about religion, although I am a believer. (Matthew 5:16) There are countless voices on the internet already filling those spaces.

What I do want to talk about is something deeper: why, as a society, we’ve allowed differing opinions to spark violence instead of conversation. Why disagreement so often ends with shouting—or worse—instead of respect. How to communicate when we disagree is a blog for another time, but for now, I’ll share this: I recently had to step away from social media (again).

Too Much Noise, Too Little Peace

I think many of us can agree—it’s just too much. I had to pause and reflect on whether social media was adding anything good to my life. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way, but this time was different. I stumbled across two videos of people being murdered, without realizing that’s what I was about to watch. I would never seek that out. A woman on a train on her way home from work, and Charlie Kirk, a man on a college campus, who was shot because he had opinions others disagreed with.

And yet, this is what fills our feeds—life and death alongside cat videos and memes. It’s jarring. It’s numbing. It’s not what human beings were meant to consume, day in and day out. Slowly, we’ve become desensitized—especially our young people. (I suggest everyone read The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, which takes a deep dive into the mental health issues we are facing because of cell phone and social media use.)

A Shift in Perspective

The recent events in our country shook me—not just as a person, but as a parent. I wasn’t alone in feeling a shift. While some people celebrated violence, others turned toward prayer, reflection, and hope.

I believe it was a news clip from Vice President Vance, who, after losing his friend, still chose to read bedtime stories to his children because it is something Mr. Kirk will no longer be able to do. That moment struck me deeply. Because even in tragedy, the small acts of love matter. They ripple outward. And hate does too.

It made me think of my own children, and the choices I make in the moments I’m given. What am I focusing on? What am I modeling for them?

Remembering What Matters

Before deleting my apps, I read a post titled, “I think we forgot.” And I think that’s true. We forgot that behind every screen is a human being. We forgot how to treat each other with compassion.

There’s a quote pinned by my door as I head to the garage, and I read it every day: “What you choose to focus your time and attention on becomes your life.” I’ve decided to focus less on the noise and more on God, my family, and the people around me.

Mother Teresa said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” That’s where I believe the answer starts. Spend time with your loved ones. Snuggle up for a story time, add an extra book to the pile for all the people who are no longer able to.

A Gentle Challenge

This weekend, I encourage you to unplug, even for a little while. Step outside. Watch the sunset. Touch the grass. Smell a flower. Hug your kids a little tighter as you read that bedtime story.

The internet will always be there, but the moments in front of you? They’re fleeting. Let’s not miss them.

👉 Real World Application: What’s one small way you can unplug this weekend and focus on what truly matters? Share it in the comments—I’d love to hear how you’re choosing love, prayer, and presence over noise, hate, and distraction.

Matthew 5:16 “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

“I Think We Forgot”

As of 2:00 yesterday, I had absolutely no idea who Charlie Kirk was.

For the past several years, I’ve intentionally tuned out the news. Outside of election season, I’ve given very little attention to politics.

But yesterday, while listening to a sports livestream, the host casually mentioned, “Charlie Kirk was just shot.”

At the time, it didn’t mean much to me. I assumed he was some 70-year-old politician from a state I’d never been to.

Then the headlines started piling up.

Friends and family began posting about it. Videos of the shooting surfaced. Charlie was sitting under a tent on a college campus, surrounded by thousands of students. The setting felt unfamiliar to me, but apparently it was a common backdrop for his events.

So I did what most people do. I Googled him.

The top result was his Wikipedia page which read “Charles James Kirk is an American right-wing political activist, author, and media personality.”

That phrase, “right-wing political activist,” felt harsh and cold. But that is what I’ve come to expect from a site like Wikipedia.

Then I saw a picture of his family. A wife. Two young kids. And I realized he was only 31.

He wasn’t some distant political figure. He was a young dad. A husband. Someone not so different from me.

Clearly, the person behind the shooting didn’t agree with Charlie’s views and wanted to silence him.

But I think his death will do the opposite.

I didn’t know Charlie yesterday. But after hearing the news, I watched some of his content. Not to judge or idolize, but to understand. I wanted to know what he believed that would make someone want to kill him.

I agreed with some of his ideas. I disagreed with others. But what stood out most was his willingness to engage in open debate. He sat face to face with people who challenged him and had conversations that most of us avoid.

These days, there are very few people I feel safe talking politics with. Most people are not interested in understanding. They are only interested in being right.

When this shooting happened, the conversation quickly shifted to gun control.

But this wasn’t about a gun.

Yes, a gun was used. But that is not the root cause.

This happened because someone didn’t agree with Charlie’s beliefs. And instead of having a conversation or accepting that people can think differently, they decided he didn’t deserve to live.

Someone with that mindset could have used anything. A bomb. A knife. We’ve seen it before. The weapon isn’t the real issue. The heart is.

Then I saw people point out that there was also a school shooting in Colorado yesterday. As if that somehow made Charlie’s death less important.

But evil is not a competition.

Both events were tragic. Both were the result of people who chose violence over humanity. And both point to something deeply broken in our culture.

The real problem is not political.

The problem is that we have created a culture where disagreement is seen as dangerous. Where anger is seen as power. Where violence is seen as a solution.

This isn’t about Democrats or Republicans. It’s about all of us.

Today is September 11th.

Like many of you, I remember exactly where I was when the towers fell. I remember the fear, the confusion, and the heartbreak.

But more than that, I remember how we responded.

We didn’t care who someone voted for. We cared that they were our neighbor. We stood together. We showed up for one another. We reminded the world that we were united.

That day we said, “Never Forget.”

Never forget what it felt like to be a country under attack.

Never forget the lives that were lost.

Never forget the heroes who ran toward danger.

Never forget how we stood shoulder to shoulder, not left or right, but together.

But looking around today, I think we forgot.

We forgot how to see each other as human beings.

We forgot that it is possible to disagree without hate.

We forgot that we are still one nation.

And the world is watching.

So here’s what I’m doing.

I’m turning off the noise.

I’m refusing to let anger be the loudest voice in the room.

I’m standing firm in what I believe, but I am choosing to listen.

Not to win an argument, but to build understanding.

We don’t need more shouting.

We need more courage.

The kind that speaks the truth, and still respects those who don’t agree.

And finally, my heart goes out to Charlie’s wife and children. No matter your politics, no family should have to endure something like this.

A husband.

A father.

A life cut short in front of thousands.

That pain is real. That loss is deep. I pray they are surrounded by people who will lift them up and carry them forward in the days to come.

-Shared by Kevin Evers via Facebook-