When Civility Fails: A Pastor’s Response to Violence, Rage, and the Hard Work of Truth

 

by Bart L. Denny, Ph.D.

Introduction — Why I must speak

I have been reflecting on recent events in our nation and wrestling with how best to speak into them. As a follower of Jesus Christ and as a pastor, I believe my calling is to shed more light than heat in times of turmoil, and to offer the seasoning of grace in a culture that often tastes bitter. This will not be an exercise in soft-peddling. It will be frank, pastoral, and, where necessary, unflinching.

Somewhere, this post will fail to address a consideration that it might have spoken to. I own it, saying in my defense only that space prevents my discussing everything that might be said on a subject and my views on it. Yet undoubtedly, this will cover more ground than most newspaper op-ed articles.

Some readers may focus on one thing I say in the post without taking the entirety of what I said here in context. I pray you won't. But I resign myself to the likelihood some will.

What I saw this past week

I saw a young man, the same age as my oldest son, shot and killed by another young man not much younger than my youngest. I watched, helpless, as words on a screen became the real, irretrievable loss of a life. I saw a young refugee woman—close in age to my daughter—trying to make it in America, a country that is supposed to be a beacon of hope in the world, stabbed to death by someone who, by all measures, should not have been walking the streets.

I saw Charlie Kirk—speaking with energy and conviction—gunned down for expressing views he had every right to voice. Whether one agrees with him or not, much of what he argued came from long-standing convictions and, for many listeners, sincere concern. He often challenged critics to “prove me wrong,” which, in my view, is the kind of honest debate our democracy desperately needs. More than that, I saw a young man unashamedly proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ. My heart breaks for the Kirk family. 

And perhaps like other parents of 31-year old young men, I couldn’t help thinking, That could have been my son.

Then there is the accused: a 22-year-old, clean-cut, intelligent, raised in a family with traditional values. A good home, from what I can see here. Yet something happened. Yes, he is an adult—but still at an impressionable age. Shaped by institutions and ideas that caricature traditional convictions, shaped by peer cultures that dismiss, no, vilify, those who hold different beliefs, something—and someone—took him past speech to deadly action. My heart breaks for the Robinson family.

And I can’t help thinking, That could have been my son.

I also saw Iryna Zarutska—close in age to my children—murdered on public transportation. The accused had reportedly been arrested and released many times, showing a pattern of dangerous behavior. Even his mother apparently pleaded for him to be confined, recognizing the threat he posed. In Iryna I didn’t see “an immigrant” or “a victim that fits a category.” I saw a person, created in God’s image, living her life where she should have been safe—and her life senselessly taken. My heart breaks for her family.

And I can’t help thinking, That could have been my daughter.

I relate less to the accused in that case, but my heart still aches for his mother. I am not a clinician, but I have met enough people suffering severe mental illness to recognize the torment it brings. These are not simple cases of anxiety or discouragement; these are profound disorders that leave people detached from reality. Yet they are human beings—made in the image of God—and I have prayed with many such tormented souls across every race and class. So while I grieve for Iryna, I also grieve for a tormented person and an anguished mother. 

And, perhaps with many people riding buses or trains, or walking down the sidewalk, I can’t help thinking, That could be any stranger I meet.

The responses — what should outrage look like?

Then come the reactions. I understand the outrage over these killings. I also understand the outrage at some other reactions—the responses that downplay crime statistics, the responses that blame a victim for exercising a right, the responses that make excuses for a perpetrator, and—most chilling of all—the responses that celebrate an assassination. That is despicable—no matter the political beliefs of the victim, the perpetrator, or those who say, “This was tragic, but understandable.”

There are many underlying issues here—far too many to speak to adequately in a single blog post. And they all deserve calm, civil discussion if we are to regain any measure of sanity. I can’t see exactly how this ends—but our current societal trajectory is deadly. So below I will outline some principles that I believe should guide recovery and shape a Christian response.

Principle 1 — A clear line: celebrating or excusing violence makes you the problem

Let me be blunt: when you celebrate or excuse violence—no matter what political side you’re on—you are the problem. A huge part of it. I will not soften that. I condemn violence and all political violence, period.

If you call yourself a Christian and you celebrate or excuse violence against political opponents, take seriously Paul’s command to examine your faith: “Examine yourselves to see if your faith is genuine.” (2 Cor. 13:5, NLT). Celebrating murder is not righteous resistance. It is a moral failure that corrodes the soul and dishonors God.

I'm tired of the endless, reflexive back-and-forth. Every call to “tone it down” is countered with “Well, what about…? You tone it down first!” That tit-for-tat leads nowhere. If de-escalation matters, someone must model it. So start by owning what you can control: yourself. Politicians and pundits, even more so, this means you!

Principle 2 — Own what you can control: yourself

No one else’s attitude is your excuse. Own your posture. Own your words. Own your temper. You cannot control other people’s outrage, but you can control whether you amplify calls for harm, retweet celebrations of murder, or participate in demonizing and dehumanizing rhetoric.

Take responsibility. Practice restraint. Model civility as a willing sacrifice for the sake of community—because the only durable path back to sanity begins with mirror work: change yourself first.

Principle 3 — Affirmation does not require total agreement

Second, let’s understand this clearly: I have no requirement to agree with everything you say, think, believe, or do in order to love you. Nor does my disagreement mean I hate you.

My wife and I would not have lasted a year, let alone the nearly thirty-three we’ve been together, if agreement were the condition of our relationship. We love despite disagreement. We choose each other, and we choose to hold one another accountable, to correct, to warn—because love sometimes looks like alarm bells.

I don’t need to agree with you to affirm you as a human being created in the image of God—the object of His love—and worthy of dignity and respect. But if you are running toward a cliff and I try to warn you, it’s because I care for your well-being, not because I want to control your thoughts. In no sane world is it affirming for me to agree that you should continue barreling in the same direction. A false equivalency, you say? I think not. And I love you enough to tell you the hard truth, no matter how much you call me a “hater” for it, that you’re on a self-destructive path.

The cultural lie that affirmation requires agreement is corrosive. A corollary I have seen: some expect unconditional agreement as a condition of love, and then treat any disagreement as a reason to hate. That’s not everyone who disagrees with me—just a loud and dangerous minority. You can often tell who holds that posture because they erupt—shouting, shaming, silencing—whenever someone voices a different view. We must relearn how to disagree without destroying the person across from us.

Virtues we must resurrect

If that sounds old-fashioned, well...Good! Perhaps we need a few old virtues again: humility, restraint, and the willingness to suffer loss for the sake of peace. The willingness to be wrong, the humility to listen, the restraint to avoid inflaming an already raw public conscience—these are not weakness. They are strength.

Thinking back to the reactions over Charlie Kirk

Charlie Kirk was a more famous person, and the assassination was clearly political. That’s going to garner more media coverage and more public noise—from all sides. That sort of attention is a fact of life. It doesn’t dismiss violence against people who did not enjoy such notoriety. My own funeral will not command the same headlines as that of a former president or a pope. People are overwhelmed with information; my passing won’t mean as much to those who didn’t know me. That truth does not prove them callous.

Second, I was shocked by how Charlie was described and by what some said about him—especially among supposedly reliable news organizations. You can make almost anyone who speaks a lot look monstrous if you edit enough sound bites out of context. But if you actually listen to him at length, it’s harder to fit him into the worst labels. Frankly, I think those who painted him in the most monstrous terms fall into two camps: first, those who never listened but consumed edited media mashups; second, those who have swallowed the lie that agreement is the only acceptable form of affirmation.

Indeed, he gave a microphone to many who disagreed with him. Where he agreed, he said so plainly. When he did not know, he admitted it. He thanked critics for their willingness to dialogue. He challenged opponents to debate with reasoned logic—something he often brought to the table when many of his opponents did not.

Charlie had gay friends who did not hear homophobia in his voice; he had Black friends who did not hear racism when he questioned policies based solely on race; he had women friends who did not hear misogyny in arguments that emphasized merit and character over gender-based criterion. Many of these friends heard a man who insisted we judge people by the content of their character—invoking the ideal Martin Luther King Jr. articulated. I think that’s because they actually listened to him and didn’t fear having the inadequacies of their own arguments laid bare by Kirk’s sharp intellect.

Kirk also spoke plainly of his Christian convictions—about Christ as “the way, the truth, and the life,” and that no one comes to the Father except through Him. That confession will always generate disagreement and sometimes hatred. It’s exclusive by nature—not all roads lead to Heaven. But Christians have proclaimed such claims across history, even at the cost of ostracism, persecution, and death. That reality should temper our outrage and sharpen our call to love.

I grieve that positions once regarded as mainstream now frequently draw poisonous vitriol. I worry about the number of people who quietly—or not so quietly—celebrated the death of a young man for his opinions. How many more like the accused are out there, shaped by anger, delusion, or ideological isolation? That question haunts me. I look at those gleefully celebrating the death of a young father...

And, as I watch the celebrants, I can’t help wondering, Could that have been my neighbor?

Where I stand — clear convictions stated plainly

I must be candid about what I believe, because ambiguity here is a disservice to both truth and charity. I will say what I believe plainly and pastorally. Frankly, I think that there would have been little daylight between Charlie's views and my own as expressed here. If you think this is hate, I challenge you to at least look inside for a minute before you point at me.

Abortion — a direct and firm conviction

I believe abortion is the killing of a helpless human being—the most vulnerable and marginalized among us. I will say it plainly: ending the life of an unborn child is murder. I hold this conviction because Scripture and conscience affirm the dignity of every human being (Genesis 1:27; Psalm 139:13–16). The image of God is present in the unborn as surely as in the elderly or the newborn—and that’s the sole reason we need to oppose abortion or any other murder. To call any human, including the unborn, anything less than an Image-bearer is to deny a foundational moral intuition that has shaped law and conscience across societies and time. What's more, that so many in our society call an unborn baby a "clump of cells" or merely a "potential human" speaks to the cheapening of life we see exhibited towards all humanity.

Abortion is a multibillion-dollar industry and well-connected politically—a powerfully evil force that destroys God’s Image Bearers. Therefore, defending the unborn is not a peripheral issue for Christians. It is a moral imperative to protect the weakest among us. That commitment must translate into both public witness and pastoral care. We should oppose abortion while simultaneously providing practical help to women and families in crisis: health care, counseling, housing, adoption services, financial support, and networks that allow children to be welcomed into life. The Church can help!

I feel deep compassion for women who become pregnant as the result of rape or incest. Their suffering is profound, and our response must be mercy, care, and justice. According to the Guttmacher Institute, about 1 percent of abortion patients reported rape as a factor and fewer than 0.5 percent reported incest.[1]

As sick to my stomach as I get thinking about it, it is neither just nor morally coherent to repay the evil of rape with the evil of killing an innocent child. Not to be trite or cliché, but two wrongs do not make a right. At the same time, we must provide concrete help to survivors—medical care, trauma-informed counseling, housing, financial support, and a clear pathway to adoption if that is their desire. Moreover, it should go without saying that the perpetrators of heinous sexual crimes must be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And to those who have undergone abortion—the Church must be a place of love, grace, forgiveness, and renewal.

And with respect to emergency care: while some state laws and confusing rhetoric have created fear among clinicians, most bans include life-and-health exceptions and many expressly permit treatment of miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy; nonetheless, legal ambiguity in some places has unfortunately led to delays in necessary care and must be corrected.[2] Sadly, much of the confusion seems to me to have been fomented by the abortion lobby in an effort to scare healthcare providers—and the public—into opposing pro-life legislation or ballot measures.

Let no one mistake my firmness for lack of compassion. We must pair moral clarity with mercy. If our defense of life is not accompanied by practical support, we are hypocrites.

Sexual ethics — created order and flourishing

I hold that sexual intimacy, as God designed it, belongs within a covenantal, lifelong marriage between one biological man and one biological woman. Sexual activity outside that covenant—whether heterosexual fornication or same-sex sexual relations—departs from that design as described in Scripture (see Genesis 1–2; Matthew 19:4–6; Ephesians 5:22–33). If you are living outside of those boundaries, I can’t endorse your lifestyle choice. I believe God’s created complementarity of male and female and His design for marriage and family provide the best conditions for human flourishing across generations—all  part of bearing God’s Image. But I don’t hate you. And if my endorsing your lifestyle, if it’s outside these boundaries, is a condition for you loving me, that’s on you. The feeling isn’t mutual.

I want to be plain about transgenderism: I do not believe a man can become a woman or a woman become a man. Genesis 1–2 teaches that God made humanity male and female in his image (Genesis 1:27), and I believe maleness and femaleness are integral to the Imago Dei (the image of God in humankind); to attempt to alter that God-given reality is, in my view, an assault on the divine image.

Let me be clear: I do not hate transgender people — I love my neighbor and mourn the confusion and suffering many endure — but I cannot affirm the idea that biological sex can be changed. Clearly, adults in the United States have the freedom to do what they will. But I don’t I think the medical community should rush to treat gender dysphoria with irreversible interventions; clinicians ought to prioritize careful psychological care, family support, and cautious discernment rather than normalizing permanent surgical or hormonal procedures as the first-line solution. We must hold this conviction without contempt, offering real compassion, pastoral care, and practical help to those who are hurting.

Is this position unpopular? Yes. Is it labeled “intolerant” or “bigoted” by some? Yes. Will stating it plainly offend people? Undoubtedly. I accept that. I choose clarity over euphemism. I will not hide the truth I believe out of fear of public opinion.

Grace and the call to love

Nevertheless, I am clear about grace: no one is beyond God’s redeeming love. No sin is irrecoverable. I do not say these things to castigate individuals. I say them because I love people and because I want the conditions that best foster human flourishing. When I warn someone that they are running toward a cliff, it is an act of love—not a desire to condemn.

When people speak of “God’s judgment,” sometimes they mean spiritual consequences; sometimes they refer to natural results of choices—consequences that moral observers can plainly see. Both can be true. However, my aim is not to threaten divine retribution but to call people to a life that builds stable families, strong communities, and future flourishing.

Where conviction meets practice — practical Christian responses

If we hold convictions with courage, we must also work with compassion. Saying that abortion is murder obliges us not only to protest but to rescue. If we affirm marriage and family as stabilizing institutions, then we must invest in them. None of these is a quick fix. They won't come cheaply, and it may even require the Church to be sacrificial to see them become reality.

Practical responses—many of which the Church could often do in partnership with, or maybe better than, the government—include:

Building robust support systems for pregnant women and new parents—medical, financial, housing, counseling. Despite the strawman arguments of abortion proponents, “Who’s going to care for these kids?” the Church is actively involved in this problem and can do more.

Strengthening adoption networks and removing barriers to adoption and foster care. Again, Christians have often led the way here, and the Church can do more.

Expanding mental-health care access and prioritizing treatment for those whose untreated illnesses escalate into violence. The Church can play a part—including supporting such ministries as Celebrate Recovery. Moreover, mental health shows a far greater link with homelessness than does simple poverty—the honest truth is that the severely mentally ill dominate homeless communities. Safe, secure, and available inpatient mental health treatment facilities must be restored. Yes, I’m advocating picking up the mentally ill homeless and confining them against their will. That’s what love looks like.

Investing in education, parenting support, and financial counseling that help families thrive. The Church can and should have a central role in this. I’m delighted that we have members of our Church devoted to providing such financial support. Moreover, investing in education does mean taking a critical look at exactly what constitutes education—and it means having the bravery to purge ideologies (and the associated ideologues) inimical to human flourishing—except to the extent that these bad ideas are held up as historical cautionary tales.

Teaching young people how to disagree well, how to debate with charity, and how to resist ideological isolation. The Church can model this: We should be a place where it’s safe to doubt and to question, answering concerns with honesty and conviction.

Acknowledging that talking about race and related policies or the concerns about problems specific to racial groups does not equal racism. Charlie wasn't a racist for questioning programs and policies that might have been popular, but that he saw as not beneficial to either society or the specific racial groups they were purported to be helping.

Recognize that one can love all people of all races, colors, and nationalities while still insisting that they obey the law--including immigration laws. I have been part of a church that worked hard to help a woman who had come into the United States by way of a "coyote" (human smuggler) get right with the immigration authorities. It didn't mean we endorsed her coming into the country illegally, and it didn't mean hiding her when the deportation order came. It did mean walking with her all the way through. It meant providing her a job when she did have authority to work. It did mean someone from church who was fluent in English and Spanish going with her to all her lawyer and immigration appointments. And it did mean the church paying her plane ticket back to her native country and weeping with her as she departed.

Question "science" that flies in the face of well-established morality and common sense. Your Ph.D. doesn't impress me. I have one. And a great deal of scientific background underpins my earlier, pre-ministry career. I know that studies, statistics, and the like can be manipulated to fit a desired outcome. Take a good look at a study's principle investigator or the research sponsor--or even the organization responsible for peer review. Is it possible any of these have an interest in a particular outcome? Real science can withstand and welcomes challenges.

Refusing to celebrate or excuse violence at any level of political discourse. Enough said!

Recognizing that faith has a part to play in public life. Praise God we're not a theocracy. The Church has only become corrupt when married to the State. However, the blanket claim I've heard, that “the Founding Fathers were not Christians” is inaccurate. The founders were religiously diverse: some were orthodox Christians, some were heterodox Christians (Unitarians, for example), and some were classical deists or skeptics. What unites them is not uniform faith, but a shared interest in liberty, civic virtue, and (for many, if not most) a conviction that religion played a stabilizing public role. I believe that's still true today.

Give a hand up! Some professions have very high standards. That's good and right. Seeing a larger cross-section of our population represented in important fields is, conceptually at least, a noble idea. If we want to see a particular mix of candidates from underrepresented demographics admitted into the field, then fix the underlying causes that have disadvantaged them (and the fix might not be as simple and quick as you think). Don't change the standard! Help the people from groups you see as disadvantaged meet the standard.

Requiring accountable institutions: Government exists, by God’s design, to protect the innocent and punish wrongdoers (see Romans 13:1–4). That means civil authorities must vigorously investigate, prosecute, and punish political violence and repeat dangerous criminal behavior so public spaces are safe.

At the same time, churches and workplaces must refuse to tolerate violent rhetoric or conduct; congregations should practice wise pastoral discipline and protect the vulnerable, and employers must enforce conduct policies that preserve safety and trust.

The First Amendment does not shield violent acts, and employment is not an absolute right; speech that crosses into threat or incitement has consequences, and those consequences can and should include criminal charges, civil liability, termination, or removal from positions of trust or influence. 

What's more no employer is under obligation to protect your “free speech” when you’re embarrassing their organization. Theirs is the obligation to look out for customers, patients, students, and yes, absolutely—their bottom line. If you become a liability, if you're bad for business, your employer has the right—even a duty—to terminate your employment. Say want, but you can be let go—and you should be, if you’ve demonstrated your speech casts doubt on your character, especially in a position of trust (I’m thinking of educators, government employees, military personnel, airline pilots, and healthcare professionals, in particular). Next job, read the employee handbook—and seek to do better.

All accountability must, of course, be pursued with due process, fairness, and charity—never by mob justice—but we should not permit ideology or status to place anyone above the law or above the responsibilities of community life.

Finally, if we demand moral clarity from others, we must embody the mercy we preach. That is Christian witness: truth and compassion intertwined.

A closing plea — restraint, charity, and courageous conversation

Proclaiming these truths will create disagreement. In some quarters it will be called bigotry. In others it may provoke hatred. History is full of those who paid dearly for speaking truth in unpopular times.

I do not bring this up for rhetorical effect; I name it because the cost exists.

Whether America will choose pluralistic coexistence or spiral into retribution and violence is not something I can predict. The path we are on is concerning, to say the least.

I pray we choose restraint, charity, and the hard work of honest conversation before it is too late. If you are a person of faith: pray for mercy and wisdom. If you are a neighbor: reach across the divide in humility. If you are a public voice: model sobriety and restraint.

If you are tempted to celebrate violence, repent. Violence solves nothing and stains the soul.

I won’t ever tell you what candidate or what political party to vote for. As long as Jesus Christ himself remains off the ballot, I will simply say, “None of the candidates is perfect.”

But I will speak plainly about what I believe, and my beliefs will inform my choices in the ballot box—even if none of the choices represents perfection.

I will not pander for applause. I will call sin what it is and I will call for repentance where needed. But I will also plead for mercy, civility, and the courage to disagree without hating.

May God help us to be light when the world prefers the blinding darkness, and salt when the world has no taste for it.

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[1] Lawrence B. Finer, Lori F. Frohwirth, Lindsay A. Dauphinee, Susheela Singh, and Ann M. Moore, “Reasons U.S. Women Have Abortions: Quantitative and Qualitative Perspectives,” Perspectives on Sexual and Reproductive Health 37, no. 3 (September 2005): 110–118, https://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/psrh/full/3711005.pdf.

[2] Mabel Felix, Laurie Sobel, and Alina Salganicoff, “A Review of Exceptions in State Abortion Bans: Implications for the Provision of Abortion Services,” Kaiser Family Foundation, June 6, 2024, https://www.kff.org/womens-health-policy/a-review-of-exceptions-in-state-abortions-bans-implications-for-the-provision-of-abortion-services/