Murder and Miracles

Ever since MLK Day, one tiny little phrase from the Martin Luther King Jr. speech I posted has been sticking in my head.

“You can’t murder murder.”

Dang. That’s so, so good. I’m going to write what I think about that, but really why even bother, that’s way better than what I have to say. Being surrounded by constant conversations about conflicts in Sudan is just making that truth so real to me as I see how incredibly difficult it is for a person or a community to make and maintain peace. After all, no one can kill violence. We can work against it, but there’s no peace bullet.

Violence is frighteningly easy and horribly resilient. All someone has to do to be violent is listen to their pride or hurt or fear. And in a country as heavily armed as this one, once that impulse takes hold, it is so easy to do so much damage. One act of violence with a bomb or a gun not only devastates in the present, but also plants the seeds of hate and future violence in survivors. Violence is sudden, but the effects ripple out for years and years.

But what is a bomb of peace? Can a city erupt in peace? Can peace march in or shoot into someone or fall from the sky? We can get all Hallmark and say that an act of kindness also spreads to those who witness it, but let’s not kid ourselves by over-emphasizing the similarities. There are few instruments of peace as thorough and efficient as modern weapons of war.

No, there’s nothing easy or sudden about peace. It is hard work and doesn’t just happen. Instead it must be chosen. Every. Day. For peace to rule in a community, many people must simultaneously make that same daily choice. If even one person doesn’t… well, the peace is broken. Though Sudan has seen more than its fair share of challenges, it sometimes seems a miracle to me that any community or state anywhere is living in peace.

I think about this sometimes as I am walking around Juba. I know that all the people walking past me have seen horrible things, or maybe even done horrible things. Anyone around my age was born during war, either fled from Northern militias for their whole lives or grew up in a refugee camp that wasn’t much better, and surely knew and loved many people who experienced horrible ends… God, how they are still walking on the street the same way I am is beyond understanding. Sometimes I wonder if anyone walking past me, who has seen and felt so much, ever feels the desire to hurt or kill. It would certainly be understandable. I sometimes think it is a miracle for a whole city of traumatized people to buzz around each other all day and not kill each other.

From that perspective, establishing peace in my own heart suddenly seems so urgent. There can be no excuse for allowing anger, bitterness, or resentment to take root in me. My community depends on me vigilantly fighting that internal battle for peace, just as I depend on all of them to do the same.

And in the end, what other choice do peacemakers have than to work through small acts of firm, forgiving, patient kindness? As peace activist Gene Sharp says, "As soon as you choose to fight with violence, you're choosing to fight against your opponents’ best weapons and you have to be smarter than that.”

You have to be smarter than that. Smart and slow.

Violence is reality. It is human. For many, especially here, it is inescapable. But peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness? Those things are miracles and they don’t come from us. We can daily fight the battle for peace to reign in our hearts. We can be the kind of people who help others live in peace. And we can pray for the Lord to lay a foundation of daily miracles around us. This is no bomb. But, praise God, it is powerful.