As is my custom most mornings, I wake up early to take a walk in the still quiet of the day.  The morning offers a time for me to pray and to reflect on what is ahead of me that day.  But when I returned home on a day not unlike other days and turned on the morning news, the onslaught of violent headlines assaulted my peaceful reflection.  In one short broadcast, I learned that a local police officer was shot dead without any provocation by an arson suspect he was investigating; I heard about a disheartened and disgruntled former employee who returned to his workplace to enact vengeance on his co-workers and employers by firing upon them; and I heard the grim and horrific story of soldiers in a processing center in Ft. Hood, Texas being cut down and murdered by one of their own.  At the end of his rampage 13 were dead and 29 others wounded.  Like it or not, my morning routine was upset and unsettled by this horrific news.

Disheartened by this relentless barrage of violent headlines, I cried to my husband, “Why do people love violence?  With all the heartache and despair left in the wake of these tragedies, why won’t people tire of violence?”

Of course, violence comes as no surprise.  Unfortunately, it is as familiar to us and our world as my morning exercise routine.  And yet, its occurrence is jarring.  Somehow, thankfully, we never get used to it, and its commonplace existence does not dull our senses to it when it happens.  The familiar reminder of violence calls us to attention over and over again as a sign and a symbol that something is wrong in this world.  If we are honest with ourselves, we know that evil is not just out there, apart from us, but dwells all too closely within our own hearts.  The ancient prophet Jeremiah understood this dark reality when he spoke: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). 

While I wish Jeremiah’s indictment was for everyone else out there—the murderous assassin, daughter, or political rivals—I know too well my own heart’s violence.  Just the other day, for example, I became incensed because a car cut me off in traffic.  Or I became infuriated when I was patronized by a colleague.  And why would I wish to recount the careless words spoken in anger leveled against my loved ones?  Disheartened, I cry out, “Why won’t I tire of violence?”

Jesus, like Jeremiah before him, understood humanity’s violent tendencies.  He understood that violence is not something “out there” but something within us.  He told his disciples, “That which proceeds out of the man, that is what defiles the man.  For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts...thefts, murders...deeds of coveting and wickedness, as well as deceit...envy, slander, pride and foolishness.  All these evil things proceed from within and defile a person” (Mark 7:20-23).  Jesus didn’t say these words from the cross of violence that took his life, but he very well could have.  Indeed, his offering of himself and his death on a cross is the very embodiment of his teaching in the Sermon on the Mount:

"But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who mistreat you.  And if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?  For even sinners love those who love them.  And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you?  For even sinners do the same.  But love your enemies, and do good and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons and daughters of the Most High; for God is kind to ungrateful and evil men.  Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful."(1)

Jesus endured the violence that ultimately led to his crucifixion.  He endured violence to offer another way in our world of violence.  Yet, his way offers a challenge to our everyday embrace of violence in large and small ways.  Until I tire of violence, I cannot expect the world to tire of violence.  Until I embrace Jesus’s solution to violence, I cannot hope for peace.  Yet, since Christ came near and bore our violence, the lion and the lamb can hope for the transformation that is our peace.

Margaret Manning is associate writer at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Seattle, Washington.