Month: April 2026

I’m not ok with what’s happening in Iran. And it’s not just that…

I’m not ok with how quickly we pick sides and how slowly we choose humility. I’m also not ok with political partisans elevating themselves while denouncing all others, declaring “we’re right” but never asking “what if we’re not?”

I’m not ok with the fringe setting the tone. I’m also not ok with calling it out on one side and excusing it on the other.

I’m not ok with reckless rhetoric and behavior from leaders. I’m not ok with Donald Trump saying a “whole civilization will die tonight.” I’m also not ok with Barack Obama’s Iran nuclear deal if it contributed to today’s instability.

I’m not ok with how much we spend abroad while problems persist at home. I’m also not ok with pretending the world’s problems are simple—or that ignoring them makes them go away.

I’m not ok with a government that spends endlessly without a plan to become more fiscally responsible. I’m also not ok with pretending only one side is responsible.

I’m not ok with supercilious speech from any president or politician.

I’m not ok with resisting basic ID requirements in voting. I’m also not ok with assuming fraud whenever outcomes don’t go our way.

I’m not ok with illegal immigration. I’m also not ok with demonizing ICE agents nor assuming all who cross the border illegally are demons.

I’m not ok with treating abortion as a blasé form of birth control. I’m also not ok with a lack of compassion for those facing unwanted pregnancies.

I’m not ok with refusing any limits on guns. I’m also not ok with pretending the answer is taking them all away.

I’m not ok with thinking humans can dictate gender. I’m also not ok with demeaning any person of any gender, knowing all are made in the image of God.

I’m not ok with inflation squeezing families. I’m also not ok with solutions that ignore either responsibility or compassion.

I’m not ok with the rising cost of healthcare. I’m also not ok with the logic that it can be fixed simply by taxing those who have more.

I’m not ok with expecting nothing or caring nothing for people.

I’m not ok with the worship of capitalism. I’m also not ok with socialism and Marxism.

I’m not ok with spin replacing honesty.

I’m not ok with how we treat each other online—how easily we make judgments absent authentic conversation. I’m also not ok with the belief that there’s only one right way to think and that I’ve somehow found it.

I’m not ok with omitting God. I’m also not ok with looking down on those who do.

Let us, no less, define then what “I’m not ok” actually means…

“I’m not ok” doesn’t mean I’m angry at the world, at my wits’ end nor near any proverbial breaking point. It means something doesn’t sit right. It means I don’t trust myself—or any party, person, leader or system—to have all the answers. 

And maybe that’s the point.

The more I see what I’m not ok with, it pushes me to trust God more…

To trust that his wisdom is greater than mine. That his understanding is deeper than ours. That his way of calling us to treat one another—with care, compassion and uncompromising respect—is always the better way. 

There’s a lot I’m not ok with.

But that? Trusting God more than myself? Treating others as he calls us to?

I’m ok with that.

Respectfully…

AR

Allow me to frame the point of today’s post with the words of two USA Today contributors: “From liftoff to splashdown: The historic space mission that united America.” Praise God for that which unites us; too much discord is too often sown. And perhaps that’s what makes moments like this feel so rare—because they remind us what we’re capable of when we look up instead of at each other. 

As we watched the crewed test flight of Artemis II on their ten-day mission, hear first the reaction from others…

From Jade Boudreaux, a 34-year-old aerospace watercolor painter who traveled from her Chicago home to Central Florida to witness the April 1st launch: “Everyone is experiencing it—it’s this universal connection that doesn’t happen all the time. There is something special inside of you that you have in common with every other person watching. It’s innate. It’s in your heart and it’s in your soul. It’s very human.”

From Hector Ybe, a 38-year-old astronomy club enthusiast from Philadelphia: “It was an amazing moment because everybody forgot about everything happening. People were crying, screaming and hugging. This is what we need right now on this planet—things that bring the community together.”

And from Joseph Darowski, an assistant Brigham Young English professor: “Where our biggest cultural stories—politics and sports—have a sense of us versus them and winners versus losers, the Artemis mission has a sense of wonder that unifies. The Artemis story feels like a breath of fresh air.”

Hear next the unification from the astronauts themselves, starting with mission pilot Victor Glover from space, when he was asked by CBS News if he had any special message to share on Easter Sunday…

“I don’t have anything prepared. I think these observances are important, and as we are so far from Earth and looking back at the beauty of creation, I think for me, one of the really important personal perspectives that I have up here is I can really see Earth as one thing. When I read the Bible and I look at all of the amazing things that were done for us, who were created, you have this amazing place, this spaceship. You guys are talking to us because we’re in a spaceship really far from Earth. But you’re on a spaceship called Earth that was created to give us a place to live in the universe, in the cosmos.

I think maybe the distance we are from you makes you think what we’re doing is special, but we’re the same distance from you. And I’m trying to tell you, just trust me, you are special. In all of this emptiness—this is a whole bunch of nothing, this thing we call the universe—you have this oasis, this beautiful place that we get to exist in together.

I think as we go into Easter Sunday thinking about all the cultures all around the world—whether you celebrate it or not, whether you believe in God or not—this is an opportunity for us to remember where we are, who we are, and that we are the same thing. And that we got to get through this together.”

And from mission specialist Christina Koch upon their return…

“We will explore. We will build. We will build ships. We will visit again. We will construct science outposts. We will drive rovers. We will do radio astronomy. We will found companies. We will bolster industry. We will inspire. But ultimately, we will always choose Earth. We will always choose each other.”

Choosing each other. Not sowing discord. A sense of wonder that unifies.

And maybe that’s the lesson we’re all meant to carry back with us—not just from space, but into our daily rhythms. Not just in moments of galactic awe, but in moments of grounded disagreement.

Well done, Artemis crew… for so much more than Moon exploration.

Respectfully…

AR

The view up here provides a rare opportunity to put things in perspective. I’m somewhere north of 30,000 feet, floating above a smooth blanket of clouds, penning this post as I fly home from Indianapolis after witnessing the final few games of the 2025–26 college basketball season. 

And what a season it was.

It had seemingly a little bit of everything… highs that made you jump out of your seat and lows that made you stare at the floor a little longer than you’d like. There were standout performances that will be talked about for years (including the latest “Christian Laettner shot”) and outcomes that left players and fans methodically nursing and rehearsing a few of the extended “what ifs.” We saw seniors who stayed and freshmen who arrived ready to play. There were also a few Cinderella stories that reminded us why we keep watching in the first place. 

With a total of 136 DI teams included in the men’s and women’s tournaments, the season delivered what it always does: unpredictability, intensity and some memorable moments—some triumphant, some regrettable—that reflect the very best and occasionally the messiest parts of competition. And yes, perhaps a moment or two some would gladly redo, not for the scoreboard, but for how they behaved on the sidelines (hello, Mr. Auriemma).

So much of a sports season mirrors real life—ambition and resilience, heartbreak and redemption—all playing out in real time with the TV cameras broadcasting all live.

As for the Final Four, this was a bit of a personal bucket lister. Indianapolis was a wonderful host, with the city truly transformed into a celebration of the game. Beyond the hardwood, there was a palpable energy throughout downtown… from Fan Fest to pics with the National Championship trophy to sports figures everywhere, miles of walking and wandering, and yes, the legendary shrimp cocktail at St. Elmo’s—an experience that takes both your breath away and clears your sinuses for the foreseeable future.

Of course, I had hoped to see my own team there, but alas, I did not. The last four standing came from Arizona, Connecticut, Illinois and Michigan, with Michigan ultimately and joyfully cutting down the nets. My Boilermakers bowed out one round too soon.

And yet—and this makes me think up here—I still found the Final Four to be fabulous. Because the magic wasn’t just in who played. It was in how so many showed up.

There was extraordinary talent on the court, yes. Teams that were easy to root for, even if they weren’t yours. Cheers that shook the rafters and jeers that carried just enough edge to keep things interesting. But more than that, there was something bigger happening in that stadium filled with more than 70,000 people. We were all there together.

Different teams. Different loyalties. Different opinions about every call, every play, every outcome. People stood shoulder to shoulder, passionately invested, loudly expressive—and often in complete disagreement.

Differences were everywhere. But so was respect. And that’s the part that lingers.

In a world that often feels divided, sports—at their best—quietly and consistently remind us of something important: we can care deeply, disagree loudly, and still share the same space with a sense of mutual respect. We can be rivals without being enemies. We can want different outcomes without losing sight of our shared experience.

It’s 70,000 people choosing to gather, to feel something together, to be part of a collective moment that doesn’t require agreement to be meaningful. It’s proof that unity doesn’t demand sameness. It simply asks for respect.

What a great season. What an even better event.

And what a powerful reminder of what real life could look like, if we let it.

Respectfully…
AR

It feels like every few years, the world turns its attention back to Iran. The names change. The flashpoints shift. The headlines evolve, often depending on the bias of the news source. But the underlying tension—layered and decades in the making—remains. So let’s start with a simple question: what do we actually know right now?

Tensions involving Iran have escalated again—through direct conflict, proxy activity, and rising threats that pull in other nations. The region remains simultaneously one of the most strategically important and volatile in the world. And when things heat up there, the ripple effects reach here. I don’t like the rising price of gas. Everyday people often bear the heaviest burdens.

We thus also know this: the situation is complicated.

So what don’t we know?

A lot.

We don’t know the full extent of behind-the-scenes diplomacy. We don’t know which actions are meant as deterrence and which might invite escalation. We don’t know how far any one player is truly willing to go—or what might force their hand. Most importantly, we don’t know how this will end. That’s the scary part from my limited perspective.

Conflicts like this rarely follow clean scripts. They stretch. They evolve. They surprise. Right now, tension hasn’t tipped into full-scale war, but it hasn’t exactly eased either. It seems the kind of situation that can last far longer than anyone wants. Which brings us to the big question no one can answer with confidence: how long might this take? History often suggests… longer than we think.

Conflicts rooted in ideology, security concerns, and regional power don’t resolve overnight. They require patience, strategy, and ideally, cooperation. So much is involved. And again from my limited perspective, I find myself holding multiple concerns at once…

I was concerned when Pres. Trump authorized military action involving Iran last month because any use of force carries consequences we can’t fully predict. I was concerned years earlier when policies under Pres. Obama created space—directly or indirectly—for Iran to continue advancing its nuclear capabilities, even under agreement and oversight. That, too, carried risk. I also remain concerned today about Iran itself—its leadership, posture, and stated hostility toward the U.S. and Israel. This isn’t speculation; it’s been voiced, repeated and reinforced over time—through actions, alliances, and rhetoric in the region. Those concerns don’t cancel each other out—they coexist.

As much, therefore, as we dislike what’s happening, this conflict isn’t the kind of thing that a Gallup or Pew poll can solve. It takes military, foreign relations, and historical experts—far more than any semi-humble, current events blogger or briefly tenured congressperson can figure out. We need experts to craft effective solutions.

For the rest of us then, the challenge is simpler but still hard: how do we hold complexity without rushing to pick sides? Situations like this don’t fit neatly into “right” and “wrong.” There are real risks in action, real risks in inaction, and consequences no matter which path is taken. Multiple things can be true at the same time.

Strength can be necessary—and so can restraint. Diplomacy can be valuable—and so can skepticism. Leadership decisions, regardless of party, carry both intention and unintended consequence.

Hence, moments like this prompt me to pray for our leaders rather than pick any team. Pray for solutions, knowing no single approach will work on its own. Strength without strategy risks escalation. Diplomacy without leverage can stall. Patience without clarity can drift. The challenge is combining these elements in a way that actually moves things forward.

So what does a solution look like?

Less escalation. More stability. Fewer lives at risk. More collaboration than conflict—both there and here. That’s the win.

Respectfully,
AR