A couple of weeks ago, I attended one of the Midwest’s largest Martin Luther King Jr. celebrations. As the National Anthem began, I stood to sing, as I have many times before. But this time, something was different.

I cried.

My heart was heavy, and I didn’t fully understand why until later. I think it was the weight of this moment we’re living in, the uncertainty, the division, the feeling that something foundational is slipping away. In that moment, I realized how much I’ve taken our democracy, my freedom, for granted.

That moment reminded me about the power of Love-Led Leadership and what it asks of us.

It asks us not to look away when the world feels overwhelming. To care deeply enough to act. That’s the weight I felt on my shoulders.

I’ve been reflecting on the state of our country, how far we’ve come, and how far we seem to be drifting. Regardless of where we fall politically, I believe many of us feel the same: something is breaking. Disagreement has turned into hostility. Institutions that once upheld our ideals now seem to reward division over dialogue, othering over empathy.

In the past few weeks, we’ve watched painful events unfold, including the deaths of Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse who served veterans, and Renee Good, a mother of three, poet and author, killed during a federal raid. In the aftermath, official stories have shifted, questions have gone unanswered, and the information offered feels less like public service and more like institutional protection.

When people die at the hands of the state, and narratives shift to justify it, we are not just facing a crisis of public safety, we are confronting a crisis of conscience.

Love-Led Leaders do not stay silent in the face of moral crisis.

We must ask: How did we get here?
And more urgently: How do we lead from here?

This is not the first time America has stood at a crossroads. We’ve seen deep division before, in the lead-up to the Civil War, and again during the Civil Rights Movement. In my naiveté, I once believed we had outgrown that level of unrest. But now I see that the test has only evolved. It is in front of us, asking whether we’ve learned anything at all. When Dr. King called for justice, he modeled what it means to lead with love in the face of fear, violence, and resistance. That is the legacy we are called to carry now.

Because leadership today cannot be only about strategy or optics. It must be about choosing truth, even when it’s hard, and love, especially when it’s not easy.

So what does Love-Led Leadership look like in times like these?

• It looks like paying attention—not to headlines, but to facts.
• It looks like demanding transparency when others offer only spin.
• It looks like asking hard questions of our leaders, even the ones we support.
• It looks like listening across differences without losing ourselves.
• It looks like protecting dignity—our own, and that of others.

We may not agree on every issue. But surely, we can agree on this: that every human life deserves dignity, that truth matters, and that we all want a future where our children can feel both safe and free.

I cried during the National Anthem because I love this country. It has always been a privilege to live here, one I haven’t always fully appreciated, until now. There’s truth in the saying: You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. But it’s not gone yet. We don’t have to be politicians or public figures to lead. We lead in our workplaces, in our communities, in our homes. Every conversation, every decision, every act of courage adds up. Love is a force. When we choose to lead with it, we shine a light in the darkness, bright enough to show others the way. Dr. King once said, “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.”

That choice is still ours.