Season 6: Episode 1: Re-Introducing - Reality? Faith, Race, Gender, and Current Events

The Arise Podcast – Edited Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:29):

Welcome to the Rise Podcast. As part of this process, we're going to talk about what reality is—how to find it, and how to ground yourself in it. I’ll have some regular co-hosts with me, as I mentioned earlier, and we’ll continue to explore faith, gender, race, sex, the church—all in the context of discovering reality.

Today is September 10, 2025. As I pushed to get this episode out, plans shifted and things got canceled. I was busy with the kids, checking the news, scrolling Instagram, running errands, picking up sandwiches—just an ordinary day. Then I saw the headline: Charlie Kirk had been shot.

Interestingly, Charlie Kirk and I disagree on almost everything, but I’ve occasionally listened to his podcast. I also listen to the Midas Touch podcast and others across the spectrum to understand what people are thinking and believing.

(01:47)

I ask myself: what reality am I living in, and whose voices am I letting in? When I have the capacity, I listen to people like Charlie Kirk, sometimes tune in to Fox News, check X/Twitter, or look at Truth Social—just to gauge different perspectives.

I live on Squamish land—land of cedar and clear salt water—here in Poulsbo, Washington. Kitsap County is an interesting rural mix. We’re near Seattle, often labeled “ultra-liberal,” but that doesn’t exempt us from racism, elitism, or entrenched power structures. And our rural neighbors may identify as fiscally or socially conservative. You might meet someone who voted very differently from you—someone who will happily bring you cookies, or someone who might actually despise you.

(02:48)

This mix, I think, is closer to reality than living in silos. We may choose echo chambers for news, but we still rub shoulders at coffee shops, restaurants, gyms, and schools with people who think differently.

I keep asking: how do we find a shared space to even talk? How do we locate common reality?

Back in 2020, when George Floyd was murdered, I saw deep fractures emerge. I was just starting therapy groups on race and whiteness. Our diverse group gathered to talk about racism at a time when the country seemed ready for those conversations.

(04:54)

But quickly I noticed what I call splitting—fracturing when someone said something others couldn’t accept or even register in their bodies. It sometimes caused silence or confusion, and often led to sharp, even violent words meant to wound. And often the person speaking didn’t realize the harm.

This fascinated me as a therapist. From a psychological perspective, I began to wonder: which part of ourselves shows up in everyday interactions? At a store, maybe just a polite hello. With a friend, maybe a brief check-in that still doesn’t touch the day’s deeper feelings.

(07:07)

Sometimes those layers of relationship reveal unspoken emotions—feelings inside that remain hidden. Healthy boundaries are normal, but there’s no guarantee that with those we love we suddenly share every vulnerable part of ourselves.

Now add politics, faith, love, gender, culture: more layers. Many of these parts trace back to childhood—traumas, arguments, experiences at school or with caregivers.

(08:15)

So when I see splitting—what some call polarization, black-and-white or binary thinking, or even “boundaries as weapons”—I see people wrestling with what it means to be a neighbor and to engage someone who thinks radically differently.

I feel the temptation myself to label everything all good or all bad. Children need that kind of distinction to learn what’s safe and unsafe, but adults must grow beyond it. Two things can be true at the same time: you hurt me, and I still love you and will show up. Yet our world increasingly tells us that can’t be true.

(11:05)

This pressure to split is intense—internally, from media, from social circles, from family. Sometimes I want to run away into the woods, start a farm, keep my kids home, just stay safe. Today, after news of a school shooting and Charlie Kirk’s murder, that desire feels even stronger.

There are days I simply cannot engage with people who think differently. Other days, I have more capacity.

So where is reality? For me, it’s grounding in faith—literally planting my feet on the earth, hugging a tree, touching grass.

(13:30)

I ask: who is God? Who is Jesus? And who have I been told God and Jesus are? I grew up in a rigid evangelical structure—shaped by purity culture and fear of punishment. I remember hearing, “If God calls you and you don’t act, He’ll move on and you’ll be left behind.” Even now, at 47, that idea haunts me.

When I meet people from that tradition, I feel the urge to split—making my perspective all right and theirs all wrong. I have to remind myself of their humanity and of God’s love for them.

Earlier this year, I chose to resist those s