There is no shortage of people to be enraged about right now.

I’m angry at this vile, repugnant, cognitively-addled despot urinating on our Constitution and driving our nation into the moral abyss.

I’m furious with his complicit collaborators in Congress who could have so easily prevented this at any time, including this one.

I’m sickened by genuflecting media members, gutless public servants, and God-forsaking pastors who’ve trafficked in fear on his behalf.

I’m disgusted by a legion of strangers who’ve spent the last decade in sycophantic, cultic adoration to a slithering, spray-tanned pile of excrement whose contempt for this nation and its people is complete.

But do you know the people who piss me off the most?

The people I know who voted for him, and who still don’t have the courage to admit they made a horrible mistake, who will not publicly voice any dissent.

The people who are turning off the news, looking away from the horrors, and muting people like me who refuse to stop reminding them where we are and where we’re headed as a nation.

There are literally hundreds of people following me on social media who are extended family, former friends, and people in the churches where I served, who haven’t said one critical thing about this Administration.

Not a peep.

Children kidnapped and thrown into detention camps.

Young men blinded by rubber bullets.

Thousands of people terrorized, beaten, left bloodied, and traumatized.

Entire cities thrown into chaos for nothing.

Reporters arrested for documenting war crimes.

Thousands arrested, detained, and deported without due process.

Ministers tear-gassed and arrested for bearing witness to bloodshed.

Mothers and nurses executed in the damn street.

Politicians slandering their names.

A daily nightmare reel of chaos and bloodshed.

And from them, from these self-identified lovers of God and country, complete f*ckin’ silence.

People who never shut up about their faith and patriotism are nowhere to be seen.

And I’m never going to forget what they’ve done and what they are failing to do.

As heartbreaking as these days have been, they have also been emancipating.

I used to feel guilty about my confrontational nature and the directness of my words, but that was usually because these very same people convinced me that I should feel guilty.

I was told that I was the problem, that I was overreacting, that I was too emotional and too angry, that I was stoking division.

On many days, I allowed myself to be gaslighted into believing them.

And yet here we are, in the throes of the kind of brutality at the hands of our government that we have not seen in my lifetime, and these people, many of whom have the audacity to call themselves Christians, are silent and invisible.

They’re either brokenhearted and too cowardly to speak out or they agree with what is happening. Either option is disgraceful.

One day, this nightmare will be over, at least in its current form.

Trump will soon be gone, his regime will fall, and I’ll be left knowing that I learned about all of these people.

That I can’t ever forget.

That my heart will never be free from.

That will never get fixed.

And that really pisses me off.

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