Silence in the face of evil

There are days I replay the moments I said nothing. I stood in rooms thick with wrong, where lies paraded as light, and evil dressed itself in elegance. And I swallowed my words. I held my tongue. I watched. I stayed polite. I didn’t want to cause trouble, offend, or seem “too much.” And yet… that silence still screams in my bones.

What I didn’t say has haunted me more than what I did.

Silence in the face of evil is not neutrality. It is participation.

There is no such thing as harmless silence when darkness is bold. When children are slaughtered in the womb, when truth is mocked in the public square, when souls are enslaved to sin while the church plays quiet, our silence joins the chorus of compromise. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. And God will not hold us guiltless.

This isn’t about shouting for the sake of noise. It’s about standing in the conviction that truth matters more than comfort. That righteousness demands a voice. That love sometimes roars like a lion, not because it’s cruel, but because it refuses to let others perish in quiet.

I see now that cowardice often wears the face of courtesy. That apathy wraps itself in false peace. That fear of being “too political” or “too divisive” can muzzle the very gospel we claim to uphold.

And I’m done with it.

Let my life be a holy interruption.

Let my voice tremble if it must, but let it speak. Let my hands shake, but let them reach. Let my heart break, but let it burn. I will not be counted among the passive. I will not be another shadow in the crowd while evil builds its throne.

God, awaken a holy boldness in me. Not a carnal anger. Not a reactive rage. But a fierce courage rooted in love and Truth. Let me feel the weight of souls. Let me see the generations at stake. Let me tremble under the responsibility of this moment in history, and still say yes.

Let my silence never again be louder than my witness.

I was not saved to be silent. I was not delivered to stay seated. I was not redeemed to blend in.

So I rise.

With trembling knees, with tear-streaked cheeks, with eyes wide open and mouth finally unshackled.

Here I am, Lord. Send me.

Even if I’m the only one who speaks.

Even if I stand alone.

Even if it costs me everything.

Because not to speak is to speak.

And we’ve been silent for too long.