There’s a part of me that’s grown weary of the binary. Too often we’re asked to choose: capitalism or socialism, us or them, faith or reason. But I believe our national and spiritual stories both hold more nuance, more hope, and more possibility than that.
As I’ve written before here at Better Places, our best work begins when we resist fear and step toward each other. Whether in policy, economics, or the pews, our calling is the same: to co-create something better, together.
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Economic ideas are tools, not idols.
Neither capitalism nor socialism is inherently “American.” They’re simply tools — frameworks that can serve people well or poorly depending on how they’re used. The real question isn’t which label we wear, but whether the systems we build allow our neighbors to live with dignity and hope.
A great mixed economy — like a great democracy — requires humility, creativity, and the courage to learn from every good idea, wherever it comes from.
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Faith, morality, and patriotism should never justify exclusion.
Because of my faith, I believe we’re called to love our neighbors, not fear them. The Gospel doesn’t tell us to build walls around our comfort zones — it invites us into the hard, beautiful work of compassion and justice.
Labels and “othering” can never be justified by scripture, by morality, or by national pride. Every time we elevate ideology above empathy, we distort the very message we claim to serve.
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Intentionality matters — especially in avoiding like-minded bubbles.
It’s easy to surround ourselves with voices that sound like our own, especially in polarized times. But truth and growth rarely live in echo chambers. They live in the tension between perspectives, where listening stretches us and humility softens our certainty.
Being intentional about seeking out diverse viewpoints isn’t weakness; it’s wisdom. It’s an act of spiritual discipline — a way to love our neighbor with both heart and mind.
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Pastoral care isn’t immune to the bubble.
Even those called to shepherd others can find themselves insulated within circles of agreement. When pastors, priests, rabbis, and faith leaders drift too far from diverse community, it can fracture the very congregations they long to unify.
Our churches and faith spaces are meant to be sanctuaries for all kinds of people — not silos for shared ideology. I say this not to criticize, but to grieve a trend I see too often: ministries unraveling under the weight of political fear instead of thriving in the freedom of grace.
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Grace is greater than agreement.
Grace doesn’t mean surrendering conviction — it means remembering that conviction without compassion is just noise. Showing grace toward opposing views honors both truth and humanity. It keeps us teachable. It keeps us kind.
As Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9)
That isn’t a call to silence; it’s a call to courage — the kind that builds bridges instead of burning them.
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Our shared work: co-creating better places.
If we want an economy, a nation, or a church that truly reflects the best of who we are, we have to co-create across differences. That means listening deeply, arguing gently, and staying in relationship even when we disagree.
America has always been at its best not when it chose sides, but when it combined the best of every idea to lift the whole. And the same is true of the Kingdom work we’re called to do — it’s bigger than our labels, broader than our politics, and stronger than our fear.
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So here’s my quiet invitation:
Be intentional about your circles. Show grace to those who see the world differently. And never let the bubble of comfort replace the beauty of connection.
Because building better places isn’t about choosing sides — it’s about choosing people.
— Robert
Better Places 