Bullets and Ballots
Prince of Peace, Be Near Us
In 2005, Vladimir Arutyunian threw a live grenade at then-President George W. Bush during an event in Tbilisi, the capital city of the Republic of Georgia. The grenade was live but Arutyunian had it wrapped in a handkerchief, which prevented the striker lever from releasing. President Bush had no idea just how close he’d come to death until after the event. I was 25 at the time and have some very vague recollections of the story but had to look it up for details. Until yesterday, this was the last known assassination attempt on an American president or presidential candidate.
I think it’s safe to assume that in the coming years, my recollections of yesterday’s assassination attempt on Donald Trump, resulting in the deaths of one bystander and the assailant himself, 20-year-old Thomas Matthew Crooks, will be much clearer. Like most, I was stunned. As I write this, the investigation is ongoing and information about Crooks’ motivations have not yet been reported. But whatever the details may or may not reveal, what we already know (about yesterday) is more than enough to shock and snap us back into the reality of what already know (about the human condition).
Our world is vastly broken and we’re in great need of rescue, restoration, wholeness, and peace.
The writer Peter Wehner notes that, “what happened yesterday was an assault on American democracy.” He’s right. And of course, Wehner would agree as we all would that it was much more than that—it was an assault not only on democracy but on human decency. Wehner continues, “The democratic order rests on treating those with whom we disagree as opponents rather than enemies […] We can even, in our best moments, see the humanity and dignity in those with whom we have fought pitched battles.”
I am shocked, grieved, and angry that we live in such a world. But this morning, I also face the sobering reminder that violence and death are all around. The visibility and ubiquity of presidents and candidates, especially during election cycles, give us a sense of familiarity and nearness. As their images, quotes, and sound bites inundate our feeds, we carry them with us in our back pockets, for better and for worse. So whatever our political leanings may be, the image of a bleeding Trump is shocking, stunning, and jarring. This is not how we ever imagined him. We were supposed to tell him how we feel via the ballot, not the bullet. But as Wehner reminds, “Yesterday afternoon, the bullet nearly won.”
The next story on my feed today was about the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Then a story about the war in Ukraine. A few posts down was a story about a Bay Area father who killed his family of four just 40 miles from my own family. Death upon death. Violence all around. Shocking, stunning, jarring. But we grow numb. I grow numb, though I shouldn’t.
Violence of any kind—political, global, local, personal, or otherwise—is not the way of Jesus; but it is a stark reminder of evil in our world, and in us.
And so, we condemn all violence, against those with whom we agree or disagree.
We seek ever-increasing sensitivity and empathy amid the pain all around us.
We plead, petition, and pray for peace.
Merciful God, you who weep with those who weep, who rescue the oppressed, who incline your ear to the needy, and who bind up the brokenhearted: hear our prayer. Bring an end to the violence and relief for our distress. Preserve our lives. Rescue us. Heal us. Be near to us this day. We pray this in the powerful name of our Prince of Peace, Jesus, upon whom we cast all our cares. Amen. (adapted from prayers by David Taylor)
Beautifully said!