Silence is Not an Option

This morning, my heart is heavier than usual. If I’m honest, it’s even a little confusing. I feel like David when he cried out:

“How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?”
—Psalm 13:1-2

As my phone sounded with bomb alerts from Tel Aviv, I sank to my knees in prayer and asked the Lord, How long? My heart aches. I am troubled by many things, yet I fully trust in the Lord. I know His purpose and His plan will ultimately prevail. I know He said it would be this way.

David didn’t end with questioning—he ended in praise:

“But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the LORD’s praise,
for he has been good to me.”
—Psalm 13:5-6

There is so much sorrow in my heart. Misinformation spreads like wildfire, and the sound of hatred often drowns out the voices of love and hope. Every day, I ask the Lord for the courage, wisdom, and strength to fight this battle with love. I pray for Him to open the eyes of the blind and spark revival, both here and in Israel. But on days like today, it is especially hard.

Even asking for prayer for my friends seems to offend some. So many thoughts race through my mind—
I think of the people I love, wondering if they are safe in their shelters, wondering how they feel right now. I think of my friend in Jerusalem, a mother with no bomb shelter to protect her young son from the rockets. She is afraid. She has considered leaving Israel, but it has been her home for her entire life. She could flee to the U.S., but she would leave her family and friends behind. She is Muslim, and her husband is Christian—this war weighs on her in ways many cannot understand.

I pray for my friend Rachel, who spent the night in the bomb shelter of her apartment complex. I pray for my friends in the Negev. I pray for my friend visiting from the U.S. who was in Israel on the last day of her trip when the sirens went off. Her hotel had no bomb shelter.

This morning, as I get ready for work, I find it hard to move. I continue crying out to the Lord, but my heart remains unsettled. I ask others to pray and share the news that Israel is under attack again. I try not to dwell on the voices of those who oppose me—family members who only reach out to challenge my support for Israel. They see only what the mainstream media shows them, narratives infiltrated by hate and propaganda.

I search for words to combat the lies. Sometimes they come easily; other times, they do not. Am I crazy, or is the world around me losing its mind? How have we reached a point in history where nothing is as it seems?

In my heart, I know this: my silence is not an option. Terror organizations that once struck fear into us are now glorified. Their acts of violence—murder, rape—are being justified. How is it that, in a world that has championed movements like #MeToo, these victims are forgotten while their attackers are excused? Are we ok that it seems that it is me too unless you are a Jew?

I refuse to be silent. For my daughter’s sake. For your daughter’s sake. For our children and our grandchildren. I do not want them to grow up in a world built on hatred and lies.

There is too much at stake.

Israel is not just fighting for its right to exist; it is fighting for the free world.

And I believe this with every fiber of my being.

Because Israel is standing up to monsters—monsters the world has chosen to excuse. These forces have infiltrated the media, humanitarian organizations, and college campuses with hatred and propaganda.

Their chants and ideology come directly from the Hamas charter, a document that explicitly calls for the destruction of Israel and the death of all Jews. Hamas was designated as a terrorist organization by the U.S., EU, and several other countries. They have openly stated their goal of eradicating Israel and replacing it with an Islamic state. In contrast, Israel does not seek to replace Gaza or Palestine—it seeks to live in peace with them. I am reminded of the words Golda Meir once famously said:

“We can forgive the Arabs for killing our children. We cannot forgive them for forcing us to kill their children. We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.”

That is the heart of the Israelis. So, how can we still stand by in silence?