This isn’t an attack piece. It’s an observation. I’m not saying one side is always right and the other is always wrong. Extremes exist on every side. My goal is to look at the differences in how we respond, what that reveals about us, and where we might find a better way forward.

When Jimmy Kimmel’s show was pulled after his comments about Charlie Kirk, a lot of people rushed to cry censorship and assault on free speech. That same chorus was mostly silent when conservatives like Sage Steele, Ilya Shapiro, Lara Logan, and others faced suspensions or firings for their remarks. Suddenly the principle is applied selectively. When it suits the narrative, it is a constitutional crisis. When it does not, it is simply “consequences.”

That inconsistency wears people thin. It is not about defending everything someone says. It is about calling out a double standard and asking why the rules change depending on the political team involved.

There is another difference worth noticing: how people respond. When conservative figures are canceled, the reaction tends to be quiet. Prayer. Reflection. Legal action in some cases. A painted rock on a campus. Even when that rock was vandalized at UNCW, there were no riots. That is not to say every conservative behaves this way. Extremes exist on every side. Conservatives, too, have had moments when anger turned destructive. January 6th is proof enough of that.

Contrast that with what we saw after George Floyd’s death. An understandable rush of outrage began peacefully for many, then in places it spilled into riots with widespread property damage and chaos. The media framed some of that coverage as “mostly peaceful.” But to be fair, anger spilling into the streets is not new, and not exclusive to the left. The LA riots of the 1990s after the Rodney King verdict showed how communities, often feeling unheard for decades, can erupt in destructive ways. Both then and now, the pain behind the anger was real, and so was the damage left in its wake.

I want to be absolutely clear: I condemn violence of any kind against anyone. Violence is never helpful. It never solves the underlying problems. It hurts communities, ruins livelihoods, and sets back the work of justice. Peaceful protest, accountability, and lawful action are the right tools. Violence is not.

And we need to remember none of this is new. Violence and upheaval have marked our nation’s history. Lincoln’s assassination. JFK’s assassination. The public outcry over the war in Vietnam. The protests and counter-protests around the Iraq War. Local violence and national disruption are not unique to this moment. The difference today is how quickly we hear about it and how instantly it spreads. In the past, it might take days or weeks for news to reach the public. Now, it takes seconds. Social media pours gasoline on every spark.

That speed changes everything. It shapes how fast people get outraged, how quickly someone is “canceled,” and how little time we give for facts or reflection. And it doesn’t just affect politics; it’s reshaping our kids. When their heads are buried in screens, every moment becomes urgent, every drama feels world-ending, and every post teaches them that likes and outrage matter more than truth.

This is where parenting comes back in. We need to pull our kids away from the endless scroll. Limit the screen time. Get them outside in the dirt. Bring them back to the kitchen table where real conversations happen, where respect is taught, and where they learn that life isn’t about chasing the latest uproar but about building character and living with integrity.

Think about the parents who turned their own son in. Imagine the strength that required. Imagine the heartbreak. They did what was right even though it would destroy them. That is the essence of responsible parenting. And it is what our culture is desperate for: parents who guide, correct, and raise children to be adults, not entitled tyrants.

But here’s the tension: quiet endurance has dignity, but silence also has a cost. If we never speak up, never show up, never cast a vote, we let louder voices decide the future for us. Strength isn’t just in reflection; it’s also in responsible action. That can look like parenting with courage, serving your neighbor, or yes, even showing up at the polls.

And this is where I land every time: we can’t fix this from the top down. Culture doesn’t change in the halls of power first. It changes in the heart. It changes in the home. And for me, it always circles back to faith.

The Bible isn’t meant to be skimmed like a headline. It takes time, study, and reflection. If we only ever read it at face value, we’d miss its depth and even twist it into harm. True understanding requires humility and a willingness to let it shape us.

Some people live out their faith loudly by preaching, singing, and proclaiming from the rooftops. Others, like me, walk it out more quietly. Neither way is wrong. What matters is that it’s genuine, that it leads us toward Christ, and that it helps us listen for that still, small voice inside us that whispers right and wrong.

My invitation isn’t to take my word for it, or anyone else’s. It’s to open the Bible and get in the Scripture yourself. Sit with it. Wrestle with it. Reflect honestly. Let it speak not just to the world around you, but to the world within you. Because until hearts are changed, no policy, no protest, and no cancellation will ever fix what’s broken.