Violence is everywhere. It seems to press in from all sides—on the news, in our neighborhoods, in our rhetoric, even in our faith communities. When I look around, I see not only physical violence—wars, shootings, domestic abuse, political assassinations—but also the quieter, insidious kinds that are harder to name and often easier to excuse.
Violence is more than weapons. It shows up in words that wound, in shaming or bullying, in denying people their identity, in spreading falsehoods, in using faith to exclude, in rhetoric that dehumanizes. Each of these is a form of violence. Each erodes our shared humanity.
The Bible tells the story early on. In Genesis 4, Cain kills Abel. The question that arises is the same one we must still wrestle with: Am I my brother’s, my sister’s, my sibling’s keeper? The answer is yes. When we other, when we dehumanize, when we justify harm to anyone, we perpetuate the same cycle of violence that began so long ago.
What lies beneath this cycle? Often unresolved anger, fear, or the sense of being powerless. Too often we lash out instead of facing what frightens or unsettles us. And when anger goes unchecked, it spills over—into cutting words, harmful actions, or even violence against ourselves.
But violence never solves anything. It might give a fleeting rush of adrenaline, but it leaves us emptier than before, and only tempts us to repeat the cycle again. Violence, in any form, degrades the one who inflicts it and the one who suffers it.
So what do we do? I don’t have easy answers—because there are none. But I believe there are beginning practices:
- Deep listening before reacting. Pause when anger rises; step back before adding fuel to the fire.
- Affirmation instead of diminishment. Speak from your own perspective without tearing others down.
- Use “I” statements, not “you” statements. Claim your feelings without assigning blame.
- Refuse to perpetuate harmful labels or jokes. Words matter. Refusing to demean is an act of courage.
- Practice kindness. Small acts, even when they seem insignificant, can shift the atmosphere.
Peace is not merely the absence of violence. True peace is a wholeness, a healing, a restoration of our shared dignity. As a follower of Jesus, I believe my call is simple, though never easy: to love. To love everyone and everything God loves—which is everything.
We live in a world that desperately needs courage—the courage to stop the cycle, to refuse to dehumanize, to speak peace instead of violence. Every small act of kindness, every refusal to join in harmful rhetoric, every moment of deep listening matters.
Because you, and every person you meet, are infinitely precious and unconditionally loved for the gift you already are.
Infinitely Precious 