Why I’m the One Who Needs Preemptive Love

I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a teacher, a preacher, a writer, a spiritual director. I am a peacemaker, a student of non-violence. And this is why I am also a staff member at Preemptive Love.

In my first semesters of undergrad, I began studying various non-violent movements, how brave women and men faced down violent systems and policies with peace, with protest, with grit. I became fascinated by their approach, their audacity and willingness to take huge risks. I was deeply formed—academically, spiritually, psychologically—by their example, and ever since I’ve sought to embody it in my own corner of the world. 

I’m still part of this community because I need it as much as anyone. I don’t live in a war zone, but many days it feels like we’re on the verge of it: senseless violence, mass shootings, systemic racism, divisive politics.

But something always bugged me. I felt a bit like a fraud, asserting the ethics of non-violence from my relatively privileged and safe landscape. I knew that I could never commit fully to this way of life as an individual, that I needed (and wanted) to be part of a community of peacemakers. And that’s what drew me to Preemptive Love.

I saw a team of folks willing to take risks, people willing to enter into dangerous terrain to care for fellow humans. I saw the most creative forms of peacemaking, from helping refugees start their own businesses to teaching war survivors how to make candles. And I saw a resolve to build a more beautiful world through beautiful means—because this team of folks knew that the tools which built the world we have could never build the world we want. 

I became a donor in 2016, and in 2020 I joined the staff. 

I need to hear from asylum seeking mamas in Mexico about their vision for a future where everyone flourishes.

I’m still part of this community because I need it as much as anyone. I don’t live in a war zone, but many days it feels like we’re on the verge of it: senseless violence, mass shootings, systemic racism, divisive politics. As I consider how I’m being invited to wage peace in the midst of it all, I need to learn what rebuilding looks like from my colleagues in Iraq. I need to hear from asylum seeking mamas in Mexico about their vision for a future where everyone flourishes. I need to read emails from donors who tell me why they haven’t given up hope either.

So whether I’m holding my young daughters or preparing a sermon, listening to someone articulate their inner world or conversing with a donor about their recent gift, I do so with my feet firmly planted in this community of peacebuilders. I seek to speak, to act, to live in ways that say “yes” to the version of the world I’m longing for. I draw on the witness of countless peacemakers who have gone before us, paving a way and revealing a path. And I link arms with you—wherever you may be—because peace has never been won alone.