Where do we go from here?
Reflecting on anger, evil, and holding fast to goodness ❤️🩹
I want a way to make sense of badness. I want to see it punished and shoved through pipes straight to hell. Who will stop evil from spreading? God? Us, anyone, no one? Hello?
What do you do when there’s no repair kit for your crisis? Or what if there is, but the steps to patch up create new wounds? Will it have been worth it? How do you know?
When harm came to my family last year, I became a nesting doll of angry selves. You could’ve opened me again and again and still found an infuriated part inside, distressed by wrongdoings I didn’t cause, couldn’t control, and yet wished—with all my might—I could undo.
I had awful dreams almost nightly, and my eyes twitched for months. By fall, I was exhausted by my vigilance. Unable to forever anticipate what might creepy-crawly our way next, I felt powerless. Not everything or everyone was a threat, of course. I knew that. But my nervous system didn’t. When is it safe to trust again?
Sometimes, my anger turns out to be grief in costume. There is a sadness, raw and unrehearsed, tucked beneath all the ruffles and buttons. Anger is a quick-change master and slips into character, taking center stage before I’ve noticed what’s happened. Suddenly, I’m saying mean things that I don’t mean and can’t take back. Does everyone see my own badness? Is it forgivable? Can I still be loved? Or saved?
Am I the problem, too? Are we all?
I wrote the above at the end of 2025, then left it in my drafts. As you can see, the piece is unfinished. It leads to a cul-de-sac, a dead end. But it’s how I felt. And I feel it even more now, as the Trump administration creates more suffering (was there not plenty already?) and the same scandals keep regurgitating among “Christian” leaders and corruption keeps building, amassing, bloating while loved ones face crises that flatten their hopes and my own community grieves the unexpected loss of someone so dear, so humble, so respected. Again, I ask myself, how do I make sense of all this badness? The grief and injustice?
Maybe I can’t. Maybe it’s not the question I need answered or can get answered. Do I really want to dispute, theologize, or sleuth around till I’ve found a satisfactory answer to one of the longest-running, mind-boggling questions of forever and ever? Probably not. Not right now, at least.
After years of banishing my anger, I need to feel it and give it direction. But I’m clumsy and inexperienced. Worried that the infinite little dolls will pop out any moment and everyone will see how angry (and imperfect) I am.
Lately, I’ve been challenged by some wisdom from Saint Paul:1
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Could this be a way to keep the badness from reigning? Giving time, imagination, and effort to goodness so evil might begin to crack and diminish? The evil seems never-ending, dominating, relentless. It tries to overrun us, enticing us to reciprocate with more wrongs. But as long as we’re here, I hope we can help push against the darkness by noticing, participating with, creating, advocating for, and clinging to goodness.
If goodness means something—anything at all—to us, then we must refuse to let go of it. Naming what’s good out there can be a whale-sized effort. It can seem like everything is doomed, and that’s that. But examples such as the Minneapolis neighbors providing for and protecting each other prove that goodness persists in the world. We might just be everyday people, but we get to choose if (and hopefully how) we overcome evil and power and corruption.
Goodness in the face of badness… how do we make sense of that? Maybe we don’t, and maybe that is the startling, mysterious mercy of it all. —E.T.
P.S. My husband and I have been watching the extended versions of Lord of the Rings, and this monologue from The Two Towers has stuck with me all week. I think you’ll see why. Thank you, Samwise Gamgee. 🥲
Samwise Gamgee: It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened?
But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why.
But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something.
Frodo Baggins: What are we holding on to, Sam?
Samwise Gamgee: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.
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From his letter to the Romans.
This is a very sobering, powerful post, Erichan. Thank you so much for being vulnerable and honest. I can really understand the anger and frustration you expressed toward the evil that was done to you, and the evil we see in this world.
I recently watched the Lord of the Ring extended version as well, and Sam’s words deeply resonated with me❤️
If each of us makes an effort to show care and love to someone who’s vulnerable or suffering, even in a small but tangible way, those small acts can create a much bigger difference in the world around us.