Whether you live in a reasonable radius to one of these current events or not, you can’t help but feel the shrapnel of social burden. As people of faith, we care deeply about our world and our neighbors.
 
I once heard a comedian share the story of the space shuttle Challenger exploding live on TV while watching it with his young classmates. He went on to share how devastating the event was for him and his classmates. It was so devasting that the school dismissed the kids for the rest of the day. As he was framing the relevance of this event from 1986 with today, he asked the audience a question: “What do you do when the Challenger explodes every day?”  
 
That is a very pertinent question. There may not have been an increase in devasting events, but there has been an increase in our access to information and news around the world. Social media and 24-hour news programming have made the world smaller. This presents a wonderful opportunity for us to know what is happening in the world by simply clicking a button. Yet as the world becomes smaller, the bulletins of tragedy can crowd our compassion. It brings the “explosions” to our doorstep.  
 
If you’re anything like me, you feel the burden of praying for these headlines. You might even feel the burden of speaking publicly about them. Some of us speak because we are compelled by our personal convictions. Some of us do it because our peer groups expect it. Some of us are unable to discern the difference, because the internal and external pressures feel the same.
 
With tragedy all around us and pressure beyond and within us, what happens when caring deeply leads to anxiety or depression? If you’re the kind of person who cares about justice, then you can easily grow weary in times like this when there is no shortage of issues. 
 
Because we care about our world and our neighbors, we can feel the pressure of addressing every issue that comes across our feeds. Being an advocate and activist is highly important. However, our primary posture is to abide like “a weaned child with its mother” (Ps. 131:2).  
 
When I abide in the Father, I find that my desire to be an advocate gains clarity through prayer and retreat. When we experience an onslaught of explosive news, it can disrupt our abiding. This disruption can create pessimism and hopelessness. But the love of God invites us to be like children who are not carried away by the things we can’t control. Let our faith have works, but let our work have rest as well. Let us pray without ceasing as the world presents us with terrible news. Let us abide in Jesus, our vine, so that our fruit will remain, despite the storms that attempt to detach us.