Christians, We Need to Talk About This

Written Nov. 5, 2017

A month ago, I pulled out my phone recorder app, and gave some from-the-heart rambling thoughts about the previous days' shooting in Las Vegas. I put it on the website where St. Johns Christian Church's sermons are found. It's still there. That's noteworthy because the hosting site can only hold around a month and a half worth of sermons at a time. I have to cycle out the oldest sermons each week in order to upload the newest ones.

My thoughts on the Vegas shooting are still on the site.

It was just a month ago.

Today, there was another mass shooting.

One month, two major mass shootings.

Probably the hardest thing that I have to do as a pastor is to address tragedies in the world. They seem to happen more and more frequently lately, with devastating hurricanes, fires, and shootings all in the last couple of months. Each week that something terrible happens in the world, before preaching on whatever scripture and topic are planned for that Sunday, I lead the church in prayer for the victims, families, and (since Jesus taught us to love and pray for our enemies) the perpetrators of shootings.

But it gets harder and harder each time it needs to be done.

It seems like it would get easier. With basically anything else, you get better with repetition. I never used to enjoy praying in public, but doing it over and over made it easier. I used to hate calling people up and asking to come over and visit them (it really feels like an imposition), but I have no problem with doing it now.

Leading prayers in the wake of tragedies is different.

I always try to find some words of encouragement. Sometimes I plan them out ahead of time, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'm working through my own feelings on stage, with everybody staring back at me. The Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando happened early on a Sunday morning. It had to be addressed, but there was no time or space to reflect. I was working through my grief alongside everybody else.

In these moments, I'm always looking for the right word to bring to the congregation. Often, there doesn't seem to be a 'right' word. Shortly after the Paris shooting in 2015, I remember stepping up on the stage, shaking, thinking about my planned remarks, and instead hearing myself in a defeated tone say the words, "Another one."

Mass killings are much harder for me to address than natural disasters for a couple of reasons.
First, with mass killings, you're dealing directly with the evils of humanity.
And second, I pastor a church with a lot of veterans, hunters, and people who carry. This is by no means the bulk of the church, but it's a significant group of people. I always want to be honest in the things that I say, but in the wake of mass murder, the question of "Does this need to be said, does it need to be said now, and am I the right person to say it" is constantly on my mind.

I'm about to say some things, knowing full well that it might cause defenses to go up. I understand that the rest of this post could make some enemies. However, we lit 58 candles at church one month ago in memory of and in prayer for the Vegas victims. Today, at least 26 people had their lives taken from them in Texas.

More candles to be lit. Each representing a life taken.

These lives deserve a conversation.

Here's where I'm coming from when I offer my thoughts: I'm not a gun owner. I've never been a gun owner. My parents weren't gun owners. I have many good friends--people whose outlook and opinions I trust dearly--who do own guns and like the current system of gun purchasing and ownership. I have other very good friends--again, people whose outlook and opinions I trust dearly--who would like stronger regulations on gun ownership.

I'm coming at this completely as an outsider. I have some common sense, and I have some understanding of scripture and of what I believe God's doing in the world, but I am not a gun owner, and I haven't been a part of the gun conversation before.

Mass shootings were always horrifying to watch and read about before I became a pastor. But now, I'm leading prayers again and again, and I'm having trouble finding any words of comfort for the people, because I know another shooting is probably a couple of months away.

If there's anything that could slow the likelihood of another two minute rampage that takes children from parents, spouses from one another, and brothers from sisters, then I want to be attentive to that. If some form of action could stop or lessen these killing sprees, then I want to consider it.

A couple of rebuttals come up whenever someone mentions gun control. People often point out that guns are tools. They will also mention that other things kill people too, for instance, the truck that was used to kill eight people earlier this week in NYC. To both of those points I would say this: yes, guns are tools. However, their purpose is to kill. A gun is made to kill. That's what they're for. The truck that was used to kill eight people has another purpose. Trucks are used to get from point A to point B. Trucks are used to haul heavy items.

But a gun, especially an assault rifle, is made to kill. It's a tool to kill. That's its purpose; that's what it's for.

Guns are killing machines. And we've become really good at making killing machines. We make them better and stronger and faster and more accurate. But their purpose is to kill.

Especially when we're talking about assault rifles, I'd counter this argument with a question: When does a person, an ordinary person, need an AR-15? When does a person need an AK-47? I'm actually asking. I don't understand why an ordinary person needs this kind of a gun. It doesn't make sense to me. You don't hunt deer with an AR-15. You don't hunt a prize buck with an AK-47.
The military uses them. I get that. But that's a different conversation. When it comes to assault rifles, I really don't see why an ordinary person needs one.

This thought leads me to another argument that I see on social media whenever there is a mass killing with something other than a gun, like the truck attack from last week: "This was done with something other than a gun. Guns aren't the problem. People will kill with whatever they can get their hands on."

I get the argument that's being made, but rifles seem to be able to kill a lot more people than trucks or knives, and mass shootings seem to happen way more often than knife attacks or truck attacks. Correct me if I'm wrong, but if an assault rifle can kill 50+ people in a manner of minutes at a concert without anyone being able to stop it, then maybe the assault rifle is better at killing than a knife or a truck (It's so hard to write that sentence and to talk so theoretically about the deaths of many people). If something so good at killing is so easy to come by, that seems to me to be a problem.

Also, I again ask, "What's the purpose of a regular civilian having an assault rifle?" When I was in high school, there was a nationwide scare because somebody was sending letters through the mail that were laced with anthrax. It seemed crazy to me, and I think to many Americans, that someone would be in possession of anthrax spores. I would have, and still would, support regulation on people obtaining anthrax spores. I would not support a "truck ban" simply because somebody ran down eight people with a truck. That was absolutely horrifying, but again, there is a positive use for a truck. However, I would support a ban on regular people having anthrax spores, because (correct me if I'm wrong...) no ordinary person needs to have access to anthrax spores.

Another thing people will often say is that guns don't kill people; people kill people. I get that argument. I also understand the "It's not a gun problem, it's a heart/sin problem" argument.  However, I wonder if the ease of buying an AR-15 is a good thing in a society that has such a heart/sin problem, or a mental health problem. Again, I've never been part of this conversation before, but common sense tells me that maybe it should be more difficult than it currently is to obtain one of these killing machines. If there is a rampant heart/sin/mental health problem in our society, then I really don't think easy access to an assault rifle is a positive thing.

I have a wife who I love. I have a son and a daughter who I love. I have roughly 50-60 people at my church who I love. It is destroying me to think about the horrors that occurred at a church service earlier this morning, and imagining the people I love in that unbearable situation.

My imagining is many people's reality today.

So here's where I currently am in regards to mass shootings, guns, and how to move forward:

Some gun legislation seems to me to be a good idea. There was talk about regulating bump stocks immediately after Vegas, but there hasn't been much more talk since then. Some kind of change seems appropriate. The "A killer is going to get a gun regardless of how hard it is to get it" argument doesn't really gel with me. That to me just sounds like giving up. When I hear that argument, I hear "There's nothing we can do. Just let the killers get their guns and kill." If there's even a possibility that advancing gun regulations on assault rifles could stop even one mass murder, it seems extremely appropriate to move in that direction.

That leads me back to my previous point: I don't understand why an ordinary person needs an assault rifle. Does anybody have a reason why someone needs an assault rifle? I'm all ears.

For this non-gun-carrying pastor of a church that has a number of proud gun-owners, I say this all in humility and with the understanding that I may not entirely know what I'm talking about. But what I say in confidence is that God values life. Let's get beyond the divisive talking points for a moment and recognize this truth: God loves his people. God loves his people so much that he taught his people to love other people. Jesus taught us to love our neighbors and even our enemies. We see God's Spirit moving in Acts to reach out to the whole world. God loves his people. God values the lives of his people.

If gun legislation--even just some legislation--would help in moving us away from the regularity of these horrors, then as a follower of a God who loves and values people, I think we should do it.

This isn't the end of this conversation. It's the beginning.

It's a conversation we need to have.

People are dying. Lives are being taken.

If you are a Christian who considers yourself "pro-life" (as many of my gun-owning friends do), then this should matter deeply to you.

I remember attending a Christian concert years ago, and a speaker came out midway through the show. This speaker began his talk by asking the crowd, "Who here considers themselves to be pro-life?" I remember thinking, "Here we go..." (I assumed he was there to give a pandering stump speech about abortion to get a bunch of Christian pro-lifers to buy his book in the lobby Am I cynical? Yes. Yes I am. Super cynical). He was actually there to convince people to support impoverished kids in other countries.
His point was well taken. Considering yourself to be pro-life should mean that you are concerned about life in all forms. This includes poor children who have needs (food, clothing, money) and have no ability to see these needs met.
It also includes the people who lost their lives in America's many recent mass shootings.

I'm concerned because we are one month out from 58 people having their lives taken away from them, and this morning, 26 more lost their lives.

Lives are sacred, and when someone takes a life, it is a tragedy. When someone is able to take many lives, it is unbearable. And when someone takes many lives just one month after someone else took many lives, well, we need to step up and do something about it. As followers of Christ, this should matter to us. God created them. God loves them. They're important. They're important to God, and they should be important to us.

They should be more important to us than our desire to have the right to own any kind of weapon that we want to own.

People's lives are more important than our right to own a weapon.

Here's where I ultimately land: if doing something like banning or regulating assault weapons will at least raise the likelihood that less people will lose their lives in a madman's rampage, then I think we should do it. God cares about people more than assault rifles, and we should care more about people's lives than about our right to have an assault rifle.

Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians that love is patient and kind. Let's work through this conversation with patience and kindness. But let's actually talk about changes that could be made. People matter. If we can keep some people from losing their lives, and keep individuals from committing atrocities, then we really should do it.

Identities

Someone yelled at me today.

It was totally my fault. I was leaving the Costco parking lot, and a lady walked in front of my car. I didn't see her right away. I stopped in plenty of time, but it was pretty close. Nobody was hurt, and everything ended up fine, but she screamed at me. Again, it was my fault, so after apologizing, I took the litany of f-bombs and questions like "Who taught you to drive, you stupid kid?" as best I could.

Ten years ago, I was walking out of Albertsons with a cart full of groceries. As I was headed toward my car, a guy stepped out of his truck (which was parked in a parking spot) and started screaming at me. "Do you know how close you were to my truck???" I hadn't moved the cart since he got out of the truck, so I looked over at his truck. It was about ten feet away from the two of us. I was not even close to hitting it.
"You could have hit my truck!"
"Sorry. I didn't hit it." (There was probably a better way to respond.)
"You could have."
"Okay. Sorry I was so close."
"You'd better watch where you -----in' walk, 'cause if you hit my ----in' truck, I'm gonna ----in' take all your money."
"Okay."
"Okay? That's all? You almost hit my ----in' truck."
"I didn't hit it. I'm not even close to it. We're like ten feet away from it."
(Good job, David. Antagonize the guy. This should go well. Seriously, with the way I respond to angry people, it's amazing I've only been punched once.)

After about two minutes of this back-and-forth, he got back in his truck and I continued walking to my car.
That was ten years ago. I'm still mad about it.

In the heat of the moment, we tend to lash out at people with whom we're angry or frustrated. We may do this especially with those we don't know. This was the case with the two folks mentioned above. Both the woman who thought I was going to hit her and the guy who wanted his truck to remain dent-free considered me to be a stupid kid who doesn't know how to drive/walk.
I was no better. I stewed over the situation with Angry Trucker, and viewed him as irrational and a bit crazy.
In both of these situations, people were dehumanized. There are a thousand different things that could have led Angry Trucker to lash out at me. He could have had problems at home, or money troubles, or issues with someone at work. These situations could have added so much stress to his life that he was likely to snap at just about anybody. However, my reaction was to feel insulted and to silently stew about it for years. I chose to think about him simply as Angry Trucker. I've pulled away much of his humanity and left only his rage.
I used to work a drive-thru window for a fast food chain. I was simultaneously working as a youth pastor at the time. One day, a lady was annoyed with how slow her food was coming, and took it entirely out on me. She said that if I didn't spend so much time smoking pot and would go to college (I didn't smoke pot and I did go to college), I could make something of my life. She pointedly asked me what I do when I'm not at work. "I'm a youth pastor," I told her. At that moment, her entire demeanor changed. All of a sudden, we were all doing a great job, the food wasn't late, and I was not a layabout and a pothead.

Side note: fast food employees get this kind of abuse from customers a lot. If you do this, please stop.

When we're angry, we often give people labels or names like "idiot" or "moron" or worse. We may not say these things out loud, but we think them pretty hard.

We label people that we don't know, and sometimes we label people that we do know. I have had conversations with people I know and love that have ended poorly, and in the days and weeks following, I continue to think about each and every detail of the conversation. Over time, I will mentally put together a story about how the other party was at fault in the straining or breaking of the relationship. It's not exactly lying to myself; it's more like 'selective memory.' I want to justify to myself that I acted rightly, and the other person acted wrongly.  I recently heard a story about a group of people doing this very thing. It's common for people to see themselves as faultless in a spat. "I can't believe he said that!" "She just walked away. Can you believe it?" "I'm not talking to him until he apologizes." We're quick to blame others, and slow to accept responsibility.
What happens, then, when two parties who are at odds get together? Defenses are up. Shields are raised. Instead of working things out, we accuse; we name-call; we provoke.

We choose to view people in a certain way. But how does God view them?

Paul says in 2 Corinthians that "God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people's sins against them...God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor. 5:19, 21). Titus 3 talks about the hate and general jerkiness of people, but then says that "when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy" (Titus 3:4-5). God's salvation came to the sinful, the hateful, the angry, the envious, the greedy, the destructive. He didn't come to save because people were righteous, but because he is merciful to those he loves.
In the book of Luke, Jesus calls Levi as a disciple and goes to a banquet at Levi's house. The Pharisees and teachers of the law criticize Jesus for attending a banquet with "sinners," and Jesus responds, "it is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick" (Lk. 5:31). Jesus, in the face of criticism from the Pharisees, shares a table with Levi and his friends. Sinners.
A couple of years ago, I started rewriting the story of the Prodigal Son as a choose-your-own-adventure book (Why? I have no idea. One day, I decided that the world needed the story of the Prodigal Son as a choose-your-own-adventure book. Does it? No. Not at all. Or does it? Probably not. But maybe?). This is a story in which a kid asks his father for his inheritance--basically saying to his dad, "I don't care about you; I don't care about our relationship; I don't care about our history; I would rather have you dead than alive, because your money is more important to me than you are." The father gives the kid his money and the kid blows it all on wild living. He returns home with nothing, planning to ask his father if he can live as a servant on his father's property. His father sees him and immediately runs down the street to him and embraces him. His twice repeated pronouncement that his son "was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found" shows the heart of the father toward his son whose last conversation with him was far beyond offensive. The older son is angry because he's never had a party thrown in his honor, even though he's faithfully served for his entire life with nary a peep (Nary a peep? Did I really just write that? Ugh). His father responds with "All I have is yours." Both children are deeply loved by the father.

God's love for his children is extravagant.

Our posture toward other people can often be combative. We may desire nothing but bad things for another person. At the very least, we may look at others with contempt; whether it is a person who cut us off in traffic, a friend with whom we've had a falling-out, or someone from a different class of people that we dislike. We minimalize them. Rather than seeing them as people with backgrounds and joys and fears and hopes and disappointments and families and loneliness and a history and a future, we place upon them an identity: "idiot."

Our conversations with people can easily go poorly if we enter these conversations with the point of view that the opposite party is a jerk, or a moron, or a whiner, or uptight.

What if we saw people differently?

What if, instead of the negative identities that we give to others (jerk, idiot, moron, whiner), we gave them a new identity?

What if, before every conversation, we reminded ourselves that the person with whom we're speaking is a child of God?

What if we reminded ourselves how much God loves that person?

Would the conversation change? Would I be less likely to scream at someone in traffic if I recognized that person's identity as a beloved child of God? What if, when I sat down with a person with whom I had a disagreement, I recognized his or her identity as a child of God? Would my shields stay up? Would I speak to them defensively? Would I work harder to repair our relationship if I remembered how deeply God cares for them, and how he has called them child?

I have returned to 1 Corinthians 13 repeatedly throughout the last year. It seems that anytime anything happens in the world, it quickly becomes a left/right, liberal/conservative thing. Every discussion seems to quickly become a fight in 2017. The love by which Paul calls Christians to live is not like that.  If we live with this kind of love, we should not be so quick to divide.

Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.

When I think on these words, I recognize how often I miss the mark when it comes to my relationships with others; those I know well, and those I don't know at all. When someone irks me, I don't have a lot of patience and kindness for them. I tend to boast about my own "rightness," and the other person's "wrongness." I dishonor others by seeing them as the enemy and myself as the hero or victim. I keep record of wrongs, and use those records to justify the other person's "wrongness" and my "rightness."

The world needs more patience and kindness. There is plenty of anger and recording of wrongs in the world already. What if, as a spiritual practice, we reminded ourselves before every interaction, that the person with whom we're talking is a child of God? What if we reminded ourselves how much God loves that person? Would we be more patient? Would we be more kind? Would we act more humbly? Would we be less likely to harbor anger and to keep a record of wrongs?

I think so.

I hear so often people saying that "our nation is divided." And they are right. But the ones with whom we're divided are other children of God--people who are loved by God, and saved by God.

May we be reminded of that fact as we continue to live as followers of Jesus.