We all watched the news in horror on December 14, 2012 as details emerged about the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut. The man who unleashed his fury on innocent schoolchildren and the people who taught and protected them was soon identified as 20-year-old Adam Lanza. Perhaps no one watched with greater horror than his family. Last week, his father, Peter Lanza, spoke out for the first time about his son and the atrocities he committed.
In an interview with The New Yorker, Lanza made a number of statements about Adam, including revealing the depth of his mental state as the years progressed and that he had not spoken to his son in the two years prior to the incident. In the most startling quote, and the one that has received the most press, he said he wished his son had never been born. The article states:
Peter declared that he wished Adam had never been born, that there could be no remembering who he was outside of who he became.
Usually, when we hear that phrase—"wish you'd never been born"—it comes as dramatic threat, like a line from a movie. But this time, with 20 kids and seven adults murdered by Adam in cold blood, we get the sense the Peter Lanza actually means those words, that he wishes he could take back his son's life.
On the one hand, we think of the parent-child relationship and our defenses rise: How could he say something like that? Doesn't he love his son? On the other, maybe his response is justified. Adam Lanza attacked children, the most vulnerable members of our society. He was not a good man by any means. The depth of this father's grief is unimaginable to most of us. While the recent interview may be part of processing the tragedy, Peter Lanza will likely remain in a state of grief, pain, and regret over what has happened for years to come.
Still, as Christians, when we hear a statement that expresses regret over a person's very life, it should give us pause. Should we regret a person's existence? Does a particular sin, as atrocious as it is, warrant wishing he'd never been born? Or to quote Adam Lanza's father, can you separate a person's final actions, however horrible they may be, from who they were their entire lives?
There is biblical precedent for such a desire, for wishing someone had not been born. In fact, even God himself has made such a statement. Early in Genesis, right before the flood, the evil of humanity was running wild. God looked upon his creation was "sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart" (Gen. 6:6, ESV). Even Jesus makes a similar statement regarding Judas, saying that having never been born would actually be better than the coming judgment on his betrayer (Matt. 26:24).
But God's sentiment doesn't line up with our use of this phrase. The Hebrew word for "sorry" in Genesis refers to grief, not remorse. When God looked on the rampant sin in his creation, his heart was broken. It's actually a statement about his holiness and his love, not one of hatred for his people. God's love for his creation is exemplified in his kindness towards Noah. He could have destroyed all, yet he kept hope going through Noah. His grief is laced with forgiveness.
Jesus speaks of a coming judgment that would warrant his remarks toward Judas, who had not yet betrayed Jesus. Jesus was actually warning him of what was to come, not disregarding the life he currently lived. The saddest thing about Jesus' statement is that Judas, now knowing of the coming judgment, betrays Christ anyway.
So within our grief over sin and tragedy, we must still value life and hold on to hope because God himself does. Christians cherish life, not just because of what that particular life can or will do for us, but because life images the Creator. The fact that we all bear the image of God means we have incredible worth and value, which cannot be taken away even by the most horrific sins.
So what is a parent to do? Perhaps no pain is greater than the death of a child. Lanza's grief over his son gets compounded by the magnitude of death and violence he caused. It's almost too much to bear. I can't blame Peter Lanza for his statement, but I do think there is a more hopeful way.
In her forthcoming book Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full, author Gloria Furman provides a helpful perspective on the eternal future of our children:
Our children are people made in God's image, and they have eternal souls, and this gives their lives value even if they live as adults with impaired maturity or never reach adulthood.
This is what allows us to value the lives of our children regardless of the final outcome. If my two precious boys one day make a wreck of their lives in ways I can't even fathom, their lives will have mattered. And I will never regret their lives.
Even in their worst days as human beings, our children bear God's image. Marred as it might be by sin, they are image bearers for eternity. So was Adam Lanza, and that is what makes his life matter.
