Grieving in a Culture of Violence
The news of Charlie Kirk, a well-known conservative public figure, being shot and killed brings a mix of grief, shock, and division. For some, it is a devastating loss. For others, it stirs little sorrow or even quiet justification. That reality exposes just how fractured we have become, when even our grief is no longer shared.
And this fracture is not confined to America. Around the world, grief has become contested and divided. In Gaza and Israel, the violence leaves entire communities mourning, yet even lament is split along political and national lines. In Ukraine, the war with Russia drags on, bringing staggering losses, but the conflict is described and grieved differently depending on who is telling the story. Our world aches, but we are not on the same page. Even our mourning is divided.
We are nearer to the point of no return than many of us want to admit. If we continue to ignore it, the chaos will overtake us. The way forward is not louder arguments or sharper defenses. It begins with lament.
The Call to Lament
I know the very mention of lament may stir resistance. Some might think, “I’ve heard this before,” or, “I don’t want to go there again,” or even, “Aren’t we beyond that by now?” That response is understandable. We have been urged to lament so often in recent years that it can feel worn, even complacent, or worse, irresponsible or indulgent when action is needed.
But lament is not a slogan. It is the posture of God’s people in a world of pain. Without it, sorrow hardens into anger, despair, or indifference. With it, sorrow becomes prayer, and prayer opens the door to hope.
So even if part of us resists, I want to invite us to try again. Not because lament is easy, but because it is the path Christ Himself walked.
Naming Our Shared Grief
Gun violence in America has become tragically familiar. School shootings, assassinations, and mass killings blur together until they scarcely shock us. Instead of mourning, public conversation often collapses into blame and accusation. Flip between news outlets and the evidence is clear: each side frames the story to reinforce its own point, and true grief is drowned out by the noise of competing voices.
Figures from both sides of the aisle have been caught in the crossfire. Charlie Kirk was shot and killed while speaking at a Utah college event. Melissa Hortman, former Speaker of the Minnesota House of Representatives, and her husband were murdered in their own home in what was called a politically motivated attack. Violence does not respect party lines. The grief of parents, the trauma of survivors, and the cries of communities are shared human experiences, not partisan ones.
Christians cannot let our hearts grow hard in the same way politics often does. To follow Jesus is to remain tender, to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), and to resist despair or numbness.
Lament and Justice
But then comes the question many of us feel: What about justice? When do we stop lamenting and start standing up, speaking out, and fighting for what is right? Can we do both at the same time? The witness of Jesus shows us that lament and justice are not opposites. His tears were not passive. They flowed from love that acted with courage, whether by healing the sick, confronting hypocrisy, or driving corruption from the temple. Jesus carried sorrow and strength together. His grief fueled His justice, and His justice was never without compassion.
Jesus Wept
When Jesus stood at the tomb of His friend Lazarus, He did not stay above the pain. He entered it: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). He knew resurrection was coming, yet He still felt the sting of loss and the weight of sorrow.
He also lamented over Jerusalem, grieving for a city torn apart by division: “How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matthew 23:37). His tears remind us that grief is not weakness. It is part of love.
This is how we are to grieve today. Not rushing past sorrow. Not numbing ourselves. But standing tender in the midst of pain. And like Jesus, we are called to let our grief and our pursuit of justice walk hand in hand.
The Confusion of Our Time
Even within the church, we are not on the same page. Some insist discipleship requires deep engagement in politics. Others believe faith is compromised whenever the church entangles itself with power. Both sides can appeal to Scripture, and both can sound convincing.
Scot McKnight, in The Blue Parakeet (2008), observes that we often read the Bible selectively, highlighting some passages and ignoring others. This habit drives us to opposite extremes. One group leans on Romans 13 to defend allegiance to authority. Another warns from Revelation 13 about political powers that turn beastly. Both appeal to the Bible, yet they move in opposite directions.
But Jesus prayed differently. On the night before His death, He prayed that His followers “may all be one” (John 17:21). Unity, not partisan loyalty, was His desire.
What the Bible Calls Us To Do
If we are to take our conflict seriously, we must return to what Scripture consistently calls us to:
To lament: like the psalmist who dared to cry, “How long, O Lord?” (Psalm 13:1)
To pray: bringing every need and anxiety before God (Philippians 4:6)
To listen: being “quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19)
To act for peace and justice: remembering Jesus’ blessing, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9), and the prophet’s cry, “Let justice roll down like waters” (Amos 5:24)
These are not partisan tasks. They are the way of Christ.
Raising the Alarm
It is tempting to treat violence, war, and polarization as background noise. But to do so would be a mistake. The erosion of compassion and the misuse of Scripture are already weakening the church’s witness. Paul’s warning is sobering: “If you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another” (Galatians 5:15).
This is not the moment to take the side of a party. It is the moment to take the side of Christ. He is the one who breaks down the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:14). He commands us to love our enemies (Matthew 5:44). And He calls us to be peacemakers, for that is the mark of the children of God (Matthew 5:9).
Choosing Christ
Every headline tempts us to harden. Every argument tempts us to divide. But the way of Jesus is different. He calls us to hold grief in one hand and hope in the other. He calls us to lament, to pray, to listen, and to act with courage and compassion.
It is time for Christians to take this conflict seriously. Not the conflict between red and blue, not even the conflicts between nations, but the conflict between the way of the world and the way of Christ. If we must choose a side, let it be the side of Jesus. Let us follow His Way more closely, for He is our peace, our unity, and our hope.
