I grew up in a town where everyone knew your name, your mama’s name, and probably what you had for dinner. Sunday mornings were for church, and Sunday afternoons were for fried chicken, sweet tea, and front porch stories. There was a comfort in the sameness, in the shared values, familiar hymns, and common ground. But even then, there were differences. We just weren’t loud about them.

As I’ve grown older, the world has grown louder. It feels like every scroll, swipe, or comment section is an invitation to draw a line in the sand. It’s easy to label people. To size them up based on a post, a bumper sticker, or a choice of words. It’s easy to unfriend, unfollow, cancel, and condemn. What’s hard, and what’s holy, is listening with the intent to understand, not to win.

Somewhere along the way, we forgot that disagreement doesn’t have to lead to division. That standing firm in your belief doesn’t mean standing on someone else’s neck. That you can be rooted in truth and still clothed in grace.

I’ve sat across tables from people I love dearly and heard things that made my heart ache. But I didn’t walk away. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t weaponize scripture or silence their story. I listened. Because behind every belief is a lifetime of lived experience. Behind every conviction is a childhood, a moment, a wound, a fear, or a hope. And sometimes, when we lean in, we find that we’re not as far apart as we think.

Respecting differences doesn’t mean compromising your faith, your values, or your voice. It means believing that every person, regardless of belief, background, or political view, is made in the image of God. It means trading pride for humility, volume for compassion, and assumption for curiosity.

There’s a verse that humbles me every time I feel that familiar flare of self-righteousness:

“If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” (Romans 12:18)

Not just those who vote like you, worship like you, or parent like you. Everyone.

Living at peace doesn’t mean avoiding hard conversations. It means approaching them with gentleness, asking more questions than you answer, and knowing when silence speaks more loudly than a sermon. It means choosing love over being right, and truth over talking points.

We can hold convictions and still hold space. We can speak boldly and still love deeply. And we can disagree without destroying one another.

So today, may we be people who listen first. Who look beyond opinions and see the person. Who remember that Jesus broke bread with both doubters and deniers, not to prove a point but to prove His love.