Knowledge. Integrity. Resolve. Kindness.
There are moments in life when we feel an ache so deep for someone we never even knew that it stops us in our tracks. That ache doesn’t make sense logically. Why should the passing of a stranger move us to tears, weigh heavy on our chest, or stir up emotions we can’t quite explain? And yet, those moments are real. They are proof that we are wired for something greater than ourselves, and to me, they are reminders that God is real.
As leaders, parents, friends, and neighbors, we are not immune to these surges of emotion. The human condition pulls us into grief, anger, or hurt. Science tells us that our bodies respond to these emotions through powerful hormones. Cortisol rising in moments of stress or fear, adrenaline rushing in times of threat. But that same body, created with remarkable balance, can also flood with oxytocin and dopamine when we reach out in kindness or serve another person. The very design that makes us feel pain also makes us capable of healing.
And that is where leadership demands action. Because emotions left alone can fester, but emotions paired with purpose can transform.
What struck me most about Charlie Kirk was not whether every opinion he held aligned perfectly with my own—I aligned with a majority of his viewpoints, but not all. What stood out far more than agreement or disagreement was the way he challenged young people to think critically in a world that often pushes them to follow the norm. He invited them to step beyond apathy and into responsibility. He reminded them that ideas matter, but action matters more. And in doing so, he empowered a generation to see themselves not as passive observers of the world but as active participants capable of shaping it. That, more than any single viewpoint, is what I want for my own children. I want them to feel empowered, to believe that their voices matter, and to know that their hands and hearts can make a difference.
This is not a small thing. Apathy is perhaps the greatest risk to our society. We live in a time where it is easy to sit on the sidelines, scroll through headlines, and voice opinions from behind a screen without ever taking a single step to be part of the solution. But history does not remember the sideline-sitters. A society full of doers is not what produces the tragedies we mourn—mass shooters and acts of violence are not born from people who step into the arena of constructive action. They often come from isolation, disconnection, and unresolved anger. The true danger is a generation unwilling, unmotivated, or too distracted to make a difference.
So how do we combat apathy—both in ourselves and in others? How do we move from being passive observers to active participants in life? The steps are not complicated, but they require courage and consistency:
1. Start small and local. Introduce yourself to a neighbor. Volunteer at a local school, rec center, or food pantry. Coach a youth sports team, even if it’s just for one season. Bring value where you are. The arena doesn’t always look like a stadium—it often looks like your own backyard.
2. Engage with people you don’t fully agree with. True understanding doesn’t come from conflict—no one has ever changed their viewpoint in an argument. Instead, ask questions, listen, and acknowledge their concerns. Share your perspective respectfully and focus on solutions, not labels. Over time, through trust, patience, and a willingness to collaborate, real connection and change can occur.
3. Take responsibility for one thing that is broken. It doesn’t have to be the whole system. It could be a playground that needs repairs, a colleague who needs encouragement, or a family member who needs your time. Action begets action.
4. Model courage for the next generation. Kids learn more from what we do than what we say. If they see us take risks, serve others, and speak with both conviction and compassion, they will believe they can do the same.
These steps may sound simple, but when multiplied across a community, they carry the power to reshape culture. They move us from apathy to engagement, from commentary to contribution. And they remind us that while emotions may spark the flame, it is action that keeps it burning.
Most of the time, the divisions we cling to are surface level. We hate what we don’t understand. We resist what we feel we cannot fix. But when we step into the arena—when we choose to act, even when we’re unsure, even when we disagree—we begin to bridge divides.
This Teddy Roosevelt quote hangs in my office for a reason:
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again… but who does actually strive to do the deeds.”
May we all find the courage to step into the arena—to lead with knowledge, integrity, resolve, and kindness—and in doing so, leave behind not the echoes of our opinions, but the evidence of our actions.
