How Much Do We Tell Our Kids?
I debated whether we should have the conversation or not, but I just had a conversation with our 4th grader about the people killed in Uvalde, Texas. Should I start the conversation? Would it scare her needlessly? Can she process it in a healthy way?
The (Grievous) Reality of the World
What pushed me over the edge was the thought that this is the reality of the world. As much as we want to talk about how things “should” be and how legislation should change our behavior, people like the shooter still express evil in ways that end some lives way too soon and change the trajectory of the lives of the people who loved them.
Misplaced Compassion
We live in an over-polite area in which most people want to think that all people are good, deep down. We try to attribute failures and mistakes as being other people’s (or society’s) fault. It is seen as compassionate to say” Well, he must have had a bad home life.” But, that “compassion” is misplaced and misjudging both the situation and the human heart. Maybe he had mental health issues (how could he not have mental health issues to be able to act out this violence?), but he is more than his mental health issues. Misplaced compassion says “It was bad, but it was all about his upbringing?!” Compassion says: his upbringing plays into it, but this was also the overflow of his heart.
Jesus said that “out of the heart comes…murders…” (Matthew 15:19)
I know that what I am saying seems judgmental at first. “Who are you, Wes, to be able to say these things?” But, I say them because I know who I am apart from Jesus rescuing me. I know I am capable of destructive evil. Maybe it isn’t as overt as the murder of children and teachers, but it is just as real. I can have the type of compassion on the man who acted out his base desires because I know that I have those same base desires. Jesus’ compassion is not compassion that tries to see a person in the very best light, but real compassion cares for a person even when seeing that person for who they truly, deeply are.
My Anger: Empathetic and Destructive
In the conversation, I teared up. My daughter could have been in that classroom. She could have felt the fear of seeing someone who had no empathy for her life point a gun at her and pull the trigger. The last moments of her life could have been fear…wishing someone could come rescue her. Those thoughts happened in many children that day. Those children’s parents feel not only the emptiness of profound loss of their child, but also the shame and guilt of not being able to be there when their child needed help. Both are permanent.
As I considered those things, anger welled up in me. Anger that it happened. Angered at the helplessness of those whose lives ended on what should have been an ordinary school day. Angered at a boy whose willful, selfish impulses started a cascade of fear, then profound grief.
My child was not affected, but I wanted to hurt the shooter. If my 4th grader’s life was taken from her I would want to take something from him. Yes, I know it wouldn’t bring her back. My desire isn’t redemptive- making something good out of a bad situation. It would only add to the destruction, but at least a small sense of justice would be fulfilled.
At the very least, I would want him brought to trial and punished. I would want him to get what he deserves. But, even that, was taken from the families. His life ended in that classroom after a heroic border patrol agent rushed in to keep the boy* from taking more lives. I am glad the agent saved more lives. I, selfishly, wanted to see the boy’s punishment.
We Want Hell to be Real. No, Really, We Do.
Reading people’s responses to the tragedy on Twitter the night the shooting happened, I noticed at least two common responses in people’s posts. The first, how many times people used strong, crass language towards people on the other side of the “debate.” (Why are we trying to gain political internet points when children are killed?) The second, that many people used the phrase “go to hell.”
Oh, I am sure they have not give the existence of a personal, eternal place of judgment much thought, but I would imagine that they would be okay for Hell to exist long enough for certain people to fall into it and then close up and disappear for people like themselves…the “righteous” people.
I read somewhere that the idea of “hell” has fallen out of favor in places in which are relatively safe. As a friend from the Balkan region of Europe recently reminded me, if you don’t feel the consistent fear of a neighboring country’s army standing at your doorstep, ready to invade your homeland, then you live in a “safe” country. We live in a relatively safe part of the world, all things considered. Hell is not palatable because there is seemingly no need for it.
But, the idea of “hell” is very real to those who have seen atrocities and experienced deep fear that comes from an oppressor staring at you with malice and cold indifference.
Though I am not writing this to debate the whether or not “hell” is real (though I believe it is), the point is that- after events like these- we want hell to be real.
Not My Justice, But God’s Judgment
As I talked to my 4th grader, I told her that it doesn’t seem fair that he “got away with it.” From the survivors’ perspective, he took lives and doesn’t have to pay a debt to the society he pained.
But then I said something I rarely say…something that is the only solace that some people might have after events like this: that “boy” closed his eyes in death, then opened his eyes to see his Creator face to face. Unless he entrusted himself to Jesus at some point, that boy opened his eyes to the reality that our God is a righteous judge. A judge who is not judgy, but sees all sides, sees all actions, sees the boy’s heart and will make a wise judgment.
Getting What is Deserved
At this point, you might be like me, outrage fills my thoughts. He needs to get what he deserves…and what he deserves is more than death. His death is not enough to bring the scales of justice to balance. His death does not justify the deaths of so many. We feel that it is not fair that he “gets off easy.”
If this boy did not entrust himself to Jesus (and the overflow of his heart that shows in his actions leads me to think he was not a follower of Jesus), then Jesus’ death does not cover this person’s sins. He died “in his sin” with only the righteous judgment of God to look forward to. In other words, his eternity will be filled with only the just payment that his heart and actions deserve.
My daughter asked me a hard question. It was a question that stretched my belief in the meaning of Jesus’ death: “Would he go to heaven, daddy?” Everything in me wanted to say “Nooooo! No way! That could not happen! That would be unjust!”
I say “No one is beyond God’s mercy.” That feels nice when it comes to sin that doesn’t steal what is precious to me away from me. If that boy took my child’s life, and then “put his faith in Jesus” I would want justice. I would want ultimate, never ending judgment for him. I would want the full wrath that God could pour out on him to be poured out on him. “Don’t hold anything back!!” would be my cry.
But, that is not how God works. Anyone (frustratingly) anyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. Anyone whose authentic faith leads to repentance is welcomed into relationship with Jesus. Anyone.
But, I don’t like that right now. It is too easy. It makes God seem unjust. It makes me think that all of the ways we are “let off” are unjust…just not as unjust as letting off a premeditated murder of children might be.
A Rich Mercy
So that is what I wrestle with tonight. No one who has ever come to Jesus in faith deserved the goodness they have received from him. The mercy I have received (and continue to receive) seems unjust.
But, what if it were true?
If the shooter woke up in eternity to see that God is not “for” him, that would make sense to all of us. What is hard to believe is that someone like him (and someone like me) might wake up in eternity after death and find that I was fully accepted, even welcomed. That the just and unquenchable wrath that I should have fully absorbed was taken by Jesus on the cross.
I believe that is true. It is harder to believe in some cases than others. In the case of the Uvalde school shooter, I don’t want that kind of mercy to even be available to him.
But, if God’s mercy is only rich enough to save the “minor” sinners, then what kind of mercy is it? If Jesus’ death only paid the penalty for the “middle class” and “blasé“ mistakes we make, then it is not the kind of mercy we could ever rely on.
I am grateful that God’s mercy is different- richer- than my own.
There are still many more questions that I have. There are many that will be left unanswered. But, what I rely on now as I deal with waves of fear of losing my own daughter in a similar way -and waves of realization that I still need to be rescued from myself- is that I need to be able to look upwards and forwards and say that, though things are profoundly wrong now, there will be a day when Jesus makes all things right again according to his love and best wisdom
Make it soon, Lord Jesus.
*The shooter was 18 and legally an adult. It might be appropriate to call him a “man.” But I chose “boy” because a man does not use his strength and power to hurt people who are defenseless. The 18 year old recklessly ran into a school of vulnerable people and used his power to destroy them. A border patrol agent ran into the school- at great risk of his own life- and stopped the shooter to protect other’s lives. A man uses his strength and freedom to build up, protect, and nourish those around him. The shooter’s actions are the definition of “toxic masculinity.” God’s version of manhood looks very much like Jesus’, willingly (and even joyfully!) sacrificing himself to for the good of others. The shooter will forever be a “boy” in the eyes of most people.