There I am lying in bed, trying to lay down my hurt and fragile heart without success. I close my eyes against my wounded soul and try to fall asleep. It's late and I hear Krauthammer from the other side of closed eyes telling O'Reilly how biased or unbiased the media was during the last presidential campaign. He's figured it down to percentage points and spouts off his statistics as proud as a fourth-grader who's finished his homework before the bell.

I'm eager to believe black and white evidence, just not sure it's possible to be 62% unbiased. Meanwhile, I'm doing some mental math of my own to figure out how two people can have completely different perspectives of the same situation. My body's giving way to fitful rest, wounded heart and all, but my mind musters one final thought:

"Everything is biased."

And now I must be dreaming because a second final thought scurries across my brain that only wants to stop thinking: "I bet Iran's Ahmadinejad would not concur with Krauthammer that Fox News is fair and balanced. Wouldn't he, instead, propose that Al Jazeera was the model of unbiased news media?"

The next morning, I'm still nursing the wound I seem unable to lay down, still trying to reconcile incongruant perspectives, and thinking of more numbers in black and white. But these are chapter and verse numbers, our road signs that map out holy writ because I guess I really do need hard evidence. Could it be that scripture is our true bias?

 Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand,
   or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens?
Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket,
   or weighed the mountains on the scales
   and the hills in a balance?    (Isaiah 40:12)

Really, He is the only unbias there is. And one day, come what may, we will all see it from His perspective alone.

Maybe I shouldn't apologize for my Christian faith to those whose worldview-bias keeps traveling east. Or for my vast love and deep hopes for those I hold close enough to hurt me. Perhaps I have again stumbled upon the rightful couch on which to finally lay down my wounded burden. His word and His rescue are my refuge. All of a sudden my pain softens to compassion, the burden dissipates, blessed rest truly comes, and I no longer mind being misunderstood or biased.