Last Friday night I was putting the final touches on a talk I would be giving the next morning to a group of ladies in my community. We’d be talking all about kindness and gratitude and what it can look like to live those things with our families.

I read through part of the scripture I’d be covering again where Jesus tells us, "Love your enemies. Bless those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:43). And suddenly, in light of the chaos of Paris (and around the world, really), my talk on kindness to others (including strangers and refugees) seemed so radical.

I went to bed praying for the people of Paris and unsure what to do with the rest so I just left it. I tabled the ideas and thoughts around what it would look like to love my enemies, because suddenly they felt very close and I was afraid. Afraid for my safety and my kids. Afraid for our country. Afraid for the world and where things could be headed, filled with ideas about worst-case scenarios of where we could go from here.

Love your enemies.

Do good to those who would persecute you.

This morning as I sit reading through social media outlets, I see posts as varied as the people represented there. Looking for the good, I am encouraged by people who choose to speak about love and grace and mercy.

My eyes wander to our dining room wall, where Kyle recently hung a favorite quote of mine I came across last fall. It states, "Come on in, there is always room at the table for you." It's a welcome beacon over my dining room table, reminding me of what I as a Christian am called to do.

Love my neighbor.

I think about Jesus's life on earth, how he invited people into community who were very different from him, including his enemies. I remember that he was called a drunkard and a glutton--not because he was those things, but because he chose to hang around people who were. I'm reminded of the words my pastor so frequently offers us, "You can belong here before you believe."