Would Jesus Own a Gun?
/In the past month, the stories of gun violence have moved a lot closer to home. A student from Paideia (where Michael works and Theo attends) caught a bullet in his leg walking to the local skate park. Last week, Paideia itself went on lockdown, and Theo’s after school soccer practice was canceled, due to an active shooter being on the loose in Midtown Atlanta. And one of my closest friends, on his way home from work as usual at 3:40 in the afternoon, had to hunker down in his car, as a young man with a gun ran through the nearby gas station, then turned, shot and killed another man on the sidewalk. My friend was close enough to witness that human breathing his final breaths in a pool of blood.
This, while nearly every day we see and hear on the news of another shooting--eight dead at a shopping mall in Texas, one killed and four injured in a waiting room in Atlanta, five in Texas killed by a neighbor, who was asked to stop firing his gun so their baby could sleep, four killed and 32 injured at a birthday party in Alabama, five killed in a Louisville bank, three children and three adults killed in a private, Christian elementary school in Nashville. Plus there are the individuals shot for ringing the wrong doorbell, turning around in a driveway, and opening the wrong car door, simple things I imagine many of us have done.
Like you, I grieve for every family and community devastated by this senseless gun violence. As a parent, I am scared to death that we could receive a call that one of our own boys is trapped in his school with an active shooter. For the first time ever, I had misgivings about taking our boys to a local arts and music festival.
Our epidemic of gun violence is intolerable, but it is not inevitable. As a society, we do not have to live like this. We can choose another way. And as people of faith, I believe we must advocate and labor for that more voraciously. Enough is enough.
As a United States citizen, I believe the Second Amendment of the Constitution protects my right to own and responsibly use a gun. As a follower of Jesus Christ, I believe I am lovingly forbidden from doing so. My faith in Jesus demands I do far more than protect my own legal rights, especially one that is completely antithetical to the way of Christ.
Jesus, also called the Prince of Peace, taught and modeled, lived his entire life, and died his death with compassion and nonviolence.
In his famous Sermon on the Mount, he said “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:43-45).
When Jesus himself was arrested, which would eventually lead to his execution, one of his disciples drew a sword, and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. Jesus responded, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matthew 26:4 -56).
After angry mobs cheered for his crucifixion, and he was nailed to a cross, Jesus did not retaliate, but instead said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. (Luke 23:34)
When Jesus was raised from the dead, he did not avenge those who had executed him, nor shame his disciples who deserted him, but came back speaking “Peace”, and sending his disciples out to live an alternative, nonviolent, compassionate life in this world, following his example, taking up their own crosses.
Countless Christians in the two millennium since Jesus lived, have endured persecution, violence, and death, holding true to Jesus‘s way of nonviolence.
Let me be clear. I do not want to die. There have been times when, out of my own fear of violence, I wanted to protect myself. But I will not own a gun. I do not want the power to end life in my hands, lest my fear or anger lead me to take another’s life, even an enemy who seeks my harm. As a child, I grew up in a household with a gun, there presumably to protect our family from harm. But I also grew up with a grandfather who committed suicide. So the presence of that gun created more anxiety than a feeling of safety for me. The one time I heard it go off, I was absolutely terrified, until I confirmed it was shot to scare off an intruding raccoon.
Maybe other people have different experiences, but for me, the proliferation of guns in our country does not render us more safe, but puts all of us in more danger. Especially with the increased levels of fear and anger, hatred and hostility among us. How many humans have to die, how close to home, to our own loves, does it have to get for us to collectively decide we do not want to live like this, and we come together to try to stem the tide of gun violence?
I’m not saying, there are easy solutions. It is a shocking fact that there are more guns than residents of the United States. Of course, if someone really wants to kill, they may very well find a way. But we can certainly make it a lot harder, dramatically reduce the number of humans lost to gun violence. We can ban military style assault rifles designed to rapidly mow down human beings. We can increase the minimum age for gun ownership (If you aren’t deemed mature enough to handle alcohol, you probably shouldn’t handle a firearm). And for God’s sake, we can stop glorifying guns by plastering them on our vehicles, T-shirts, campaign signs, and Christmas cards. Of all our American idols, it’s hard to imagine one that more grieves the heart of God.
I know it’s tempting to feel resigned and despairing, like there’s nothing we can do. There is always more we can do, starting with reckoning with how God and Jesus ask us to treat one another. Love one another. Forgive each other. Pray for your enemies. Do not be afraid. Do not return evil for evil. Be a peacemaker.
I think about Etty Hillesum, the young Jewish woman from Amsterdam, who was killed in Auschwitz at the age of 29. Shortly before she wrote in her journal, “Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it toward others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will also be in our troubled world.” In another place she writes, “The threat grows ever greater, and terror increases from day to day. I draw prayer around me like a dark protective wall, withdraw inside it as one might into a convent cell and then step outside again, calmer and stronger and more collected again. I can imagine times too, when I shall stay on my knees for days on end waiting until the protective walls are strong enough to prevent my going to pieces altogether.” (from An Interrupted Life: the Journal of a Young Jewish Woman, 1941-1943)
What are we doing with our own fear and terror? Toward whom do we feel hostility and hatred? Can we confess our own desire to see harm done to others, any pleasure we get when others ‘get what they have coming to them’ in our limited human opinion? How do we pray for love, compassion and mercy beyond our current capacity? How do we remember to see everyone, everyone, everyone (the immigrant, the super gun owner, the trans athlete, the child trafficker) as a beloved child of God? How do we grow the peace in us, so there is more peace in the world? Whether we own guns or not, whether we advocate for common sense gun reform or not, we are all responsible for the levels of peace and or violence in our own hearts and minds.
What is ours to do? God, have mercy on us all as we labor for a more peaceful world. May we all stay safe and loving, beat our guns into gardening tools (Isaiah 2:4), and be instruments of your peace.
Wrestling with you,
Kimberly