Response to the Colorado Theatre Shooting

How should a Christian respond to the dreadful shooting in Colorado?

As Christians, as people, there ought to be a sense of urgency about life. We don’t know when it’ll end. But we should also not be hardened by this fact.

Should we feel pain for the people who’ve lost? Yes. Should we pray for the man who did this? Yes. Should we weep? If called to, yes. Should we despair at the plight of the world and the evil we see all around us and in us? No. A firm and resounding no.

Why should we feel pain for those who’ve lost? Because they are our fellow man; we inhabit the same time, though we don’t know them they should be shown compassion.

Why should we pray for the man who did this? Because by God’s grace he needs God. There was no discrimination at the cross for murderers, thieves, adulterers and deniers. We, the Church, have been shown grace beyond our understanding and therefore we should show grace beyond human reason. (But to hate the act, the sinful act, is to share in God’s hatred against sin.)

Why should we weep if called to do so? Because we ought to have hearts. Compassion yes, but more than that, we should have love. Which means that in our love for God we see his glory spat on in sinful acts (our own included). We should weep for the brokenness of the world and the devastating nature that the fall has brought about. We should weep because we see vividly the failures of men.

Why should we not despair? Because God has won. The evil around and within us is to be defeated, indeed it has been. Jesus did not die just for the salvation of sinners, no he accomplished much, much more. He died to defeat, to solidly defeat Satan, sin, and death.

The effects we feel and see (especially here) but we must know and believe that God was not caught off guard by a maniac with a gun. Not at all. Is God sovereign? Yes. But asking why God didn’t stop this is asking the wrong question.

We must not ask why he didn’t stop it; rather, we must ask why he planned it. He’s not a tame God, don’t commit the error of thinking him a cuddly bear, but he’s good, he’s a terribly good God.

We must not think too small of God - ever.

(AP Photo/Barry Gutierrez)

A Far Too Common Story

She walked into the bar. Tired, worn down and out. The bags under her eyes were obvious, the same clothes she had on yesterday cling to her skin. There’s a look of desperation in her face, of worry and torment.

Flopping into a seat near the bar she orders her drink. Huddling over it once it arrives she begins to gingerly milk it little sips here, little sips there. Tears, and possibly a scream seem to be close to bursting from her.

She’d been here last night, this bar. But then she was vibrant and happy, laughing at the stupid jokes and dancing the night away. But now she seems broken.

He’d been a nice enough guy. Seemed to genuinely care. He bought a few rounds for her and her friends and made polite small talk. After she’d denied his advances of becoming a little too physical he left. She thought nothing of it at all.

She’d parked too far away from the safety of the lights, she’d said goodbye to her friends, and she was alone.

He took her. He raped her.

Here she sits the next day weeping into a cup of coffee. Trying to find what she’d lost at the place she had it last.

It’s the story of far to many women.

It’s the fear they’ll never tell.

But it’s a travesty.

To believe the lie of being, ‘broken,’ and therefore unwanted. To remember the youth group teaching, “Who would want someone who’s not a virgin?” Yet that’s the lie.

God wants the broken. It’s the culmination of Christianity. That the destitute are redeemed, that the broken are made whole.

There’s a Redeemer who’s come to save. The righteous has no need of saving, it’s the sick that need the Doctor, and it’s the broken that need the Mender. It’s the raped that need the Healer.

So to Jesus she runs, to him, who'll treat her like the daughter she is, she clings. Away from the mire of the past and into the glory of the future. Because hope has come.

In all seriousness: If this story is you, don't let the boy who did this get away. There are many who will help. There are friends who'll listen. You, of all people, are not alone.