Hate

In an article in The Atlantic, Ross Andersen raises the question: "Did Humans Ever Live in Peace?"

Archeologists have long had evidence of conflict between small rival groups. And the earliest signs of war have been dated to the dawn of civilization (with the Sumerians and Egyptians). But recent discoveries at Laguardia, Spain pushes proof of our warring inclination to the dawn of agriculture. So how far does war go back in our history?

Because war is, by definition, organized violence. Hieroglyphic inscriptions tell us that more than 5,000 years ago, the first pharaoh conquered chiefdoms up and down the Nile delta to consolidate his power over Egypt. A Sumerian poem suggests that some centuries later, King Gilgamesh fended off a siege at Uruk, the world’s first city. But new findings, at Laguardia and other sites across the planet, now indicate that wars were also occurring at small-scale farming settlements all the way back to the dawn of agriculture, if not before.

For nearly a century, anthropologists have wanted to know how long people have been engaged in organized group violence. It’s not some idle antiquarian inquiry. For many, the question bears on human nature itself, and with ruinous wars ongoing in Europe, the Middle East, and elsewhere, it has become more resonant. If warring among humans began only recently, then we might be able to blame it on changeable circumstances. If, however, some amount of war has been with us since our species’ origins, or earlier in our evolutionary history, it may be difficult to excise it from the human condition.

But Andersen closes his piece with a view of what he thinks is hope:

What separates us most from other species is our cultural plasticity: We are always changing, sometimes even for the better. We have found ways to end blood feuds that implicated hundreds of millions. War may be a long-standing mainstay of human life, an inheritance from our deepest past. But each generation gets to decide whether to keep passing it down.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Andersen's view is common today. It sees humanity as though in constant progress towards perfection. We currently rest at the zenith. His "hope" is for this progress to continue. But a survey of our history reveals that this view is no hope at all. It is simply doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result. That is not hope, it is insanity. There is no hope for lasting peace until the Prince of Peace appears (Isa. 9:6-7).

In his article for The Atlantic, David Brooks says that recently he’s been obsessed with the following two questions:

The first is: Why have Americans become so sad? The rising rates of depression have been well publicized, as have the rising deaths of despair from drugs, alcohol, and suicide. But other statistics are similarly troubling. The percentage of people who say they don’t have close friends has increased fourfold since 1990. The share of Americans ages 25 to 54 who weren’t married or living with a romantic partner went up to 38 percent in 2019, from 29 percent in 1990. A record-high 25 percent of 40-year-old Americans have never married. More than half of all Americans say that no one knows them well. The percentage of high-school students who report “persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness” shot up from 26 percent in 2009 to 44 percent in 2021.

My second, related question is: Why have Americans become so mean? I was recently talking with a restaurant owner who said that he has to eject a customer from his restaurant for rude or cruel behavior once a week—something that never used to happen. A head nurse at a hospital told me that many on her staff are leaving the profession because patients have become so abusive. At the far extreme of meanness, hate crimes rose in 2020 to their highest level in 12 years. Murder rates have been surging, at least until recently. Same with gun sales. Social trust is plummeting. In 2000, two-thirds of American households gave to charity; in 2018, fewer than half did. The words that define our age reek of menace: conspiracy, polarization, mass shootings, trauma, safe spaces.

Brooks concludes: “We’re enmeshed in some sort of emotional, relational, and spiritual crisis, and it undergirds our political dysfunction and the general crisis of our democracy.”

Gun violence is an ongoing problem in the city of Chicago. Now, a new study finds 56% of the city’s Black and Hispanic population, and 25% of Whites, witness a shooting by the age of 40. Researchers say residents were, on average, 14 years-old when they saw their first shooting. The findings add to growing concerns that people witnessing constant shootings may have chronic stress and other health issues related to violence.

Researchers say, “Our findings are frankly startling and disturbing. A substantial portion of Chicago’s population could be living with trauma as a result of witnessing shootings and homicides, often at a very young age. ... Since 2016 we have seen another surge in gun violence. Rates of fatal shootings in Chicago are now higher than they ever were in the nineties.”

Over seven percent of Black and Hispanic Chicagoans were shot before turning 40, compared to three percent of White people. On average, these residents were struck by gunfire by age 17.

While Chicago was the example for this study, it is not the only place in America experiencing the effects of increasing gun violence. The team believes these public health consequences apply to cities experiencing upticks in shootings across the U.S.

Tim Keller, told the following story about a man named Hasheem Garrett, who learned the art of forgiveness. Hashim was a 15-year-old, living with his mother and hanging out on the streets of Brooklyn with a gang, when he was shot six times and was left paralyzed from the waist down.

For most of the next year he lay in a New York City hospital, fantasizing about revenge. He later wrote: “Revenge consumes me. All I could think about was, just wait, till I get better; just wait till I see this kid.”

But when he was lying on the sidewalk immediately after his shooting, he had instinctively called out to God for help, and, to his surprise, he had felt this strange tranquility. Now during his rehabilitation, a new thought, struck him, namely, that if he took revenge on this kid, why should God not pay him back for all his sins? He concluded, “I shot a kid for no reason, except that a friend told me to do it, and I wanted to prove how tough I was. Six months later, I am shot by somebody because his friend told him to do it.”

That thought was electrifying … He could not feel superior to the perpetrator. They were both fellow sinners who deserved a punishment—and needed forgiveness.

Hasheem said, “In the end I decided to forgive. I felt God had saved my life for a reason, and then I had better fulfill that purpose … And I knew I could never go back out there and harm someone. I was done with that mindset and the life that goes with it … I came to see that I had to let go and stop hating.”

Amidst updates about the spring football season, the official Twitter account for the University of Oregon football team posted an unusual video. It featured the voice of head coach Dan Lanning and several Oregon football players decrying the state gun violence as statistics flashed onscreen. Its conclusion: “End gun violence, choose love and unity.”

Lanning says the idea for the video came out of a series of meetings that players have every week where they are encouraged to discuss important issues outside of football. According to Lanning, it was an idea whose time had obviously come. He said:

I think it’s really convenient at times for coaches to not bring up tough subjects, but you look at the world over the last couple of months, last couple of weeks, and there’s people shot for knocking on the wrong door, pulling into the wrong driveway, mass shootings at different locations, it obviously was a topic that is important to our players. And, we feel like we have a voice to maybe do something about it.

Lanning says he was also motivated by the desire to demonstrate that players can make a difference. “The goal here is hopefully we can bring a humane response back to, how do we help save lives? That’s the point.”

Lanning says he’s felt a hunger for more substantive conversations around important issues as far back as 2020 when he was an assistant coach for the Georgia Bulldogs. He said, “I remember saying to our team at Georgia at the time, if three years later we’re not still having the same discussions and not talking about issues, we’re making a mistake.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

When we value the sanctity of human life, we honor the God who created humanity.

Community leaders in the Kansas City area have been breathing sighs of relief after the news that Ralph Yarl is expected to make a full recovery.

Sixteen-year-old Yarl was shot in the face after ringing the doorbell of the wrong home in an attempt to pick up his younger siblings. His plight went viral on social media, sparking outrage because local police initially declined to charge the shooter, 84-year-old Andrew Lester. After a series of local protests and national media coverage, Lester was charged in connection with the shooting, which prosecutors believe involved a “racial element” because Lester is white and Yarl is black.

Still, many were in high spirits after a photo began circulating of Yarl seated next to attorney Lee Merritt on an outdoor patio, smiling in the sun. Despite being in recovery from a traumatic brain injury, Yarl was referred to as “a walking miracle with a head of steel.”

Yarl’s mother said her son had a bullet in the left frontal lobe in his brain until it was removed by a team of surgeons. She said, “Had the bullet hit his head a fraction of an inch in any other direction he would probably be dead right now.”

Yarl’s aunt also provided an update: “Ralph is currently at home with his family. He can ambulate and communicate. A true miracle considering what he survived.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Even in the face of overwhelming wrongdoing and injustice, God can heal, renew, and restore.

A speeding car can be a deadly weapon all by itself, but a new survey finds many Americans make sure they’re armed when they get behind the wheel. A poll of 1,000 U.S. residents finds that a staggering 65 percent of drivers keep a weapon in their vehicle in case they need to defend themselves during a road rage incident.

The most common weapon drivers keep hidden is a knife (50%), followed by pepper spray (45%). However, 40 percent admit that they carry a gun with them while on the road. Other weapons American drivers have on hand include tire irons (39%), baseball bats (38%), hockey sticks (31%), tasers (31%), and lacrosse sticks (14%).

As for which cars you may want to stay away from if things get heated on the road, the poll finds BMW, Hyundai, and Mercedes drivers are the most likely to keep a dangerous weapon in their car.

So, what do we mean when we’re talking about “road rage”? These actions include everything from:

Speeding 40%

Honking (28%)

Brake checking another driver (26%)

Angry hand gestures (24%)

Yelling (23%)

However, things can get out of control quickly, leading some drivers to:

Chase or race other cars (20%)

Cut off vehicles on purpose (16%)

Tailgate (16%)

Point a weapon at a fellow driver (4%)

Possible Preaching Angle:

Some advice from AAA for avoiding road rage matches nicely with Scripture: Avoid honking and irritating other drivers (“Judge not, that you be not judged” Matt. 7:1). Being kind - imagine that the person ahead of you lost their job today, (“Be kind and compassionate to one another” Eph. 4:32). Don’t engage with angry motorists (“a soft answer turns away wrath” Prov. 15.1).

There is a powerful scene near the end of Wendell Berry’s novel Hannah Coulter. Hannah, the main character of the book, experienced profound mistreatment from her stepmother, Ivy. Hannah held onto the resentment for years until one day she encounters Ivy as an older woman in a grocery store. Wendell Berry writes:

Ivy was wearing a head scarf and a dress that hung on her as it would’ve hung on a chair. She was shrunken and twisted by arthritis and was leaning on two canes. Her hands were so knotted they hardly looked like hands. She was smiling at me. She said, “You don’t know me, do you?”

I knew her then, and almost instantly there were tears on my face. I started feeling in my purse for a handkerchief and tried to be able to say something. All kinds of knowledge came to me, all in a sort of flare in my mind. I knew for one thing that she was more simple-minded than I had ever thought. She had perfectly forgot, or had never known, how much and how justly I had resented her. But I knew in the same instant that my resentment was gone, just gone. And the fear of her that was once so big in me, where was it?

“Yes, Ivy, I know you,” I said, and I sounded kind.

I didn’t understand exactly what had happened until the thought of her woke me up in the middle of that night, and I was saying to myself, “You have forgiven her.” I had. My old hatred and contempt and fear that I kept so carefully so long, we’re gone, and I was free.

The Oregonian, Oregon’s most prestigious and longest-running newspaper, recently launched a special project entitled “Publishing Prejudice,” examining its historic complicity in reinforcing white supremacy in the state of Oregon. According to editor Therese Bottomly, the project was launched in the wake of the 2020 public demonstrations against racism after the murder of George Floyd.

Bottomly said, “Some institutions, including a handful of newspapers, responded to the moment with sustained examinations of their histories in pursuit of strengthening the principles of diversity, equity and inclusion, The Oregonian looked inward as well.”

Part of the problem is that many residents aren’t aware of Oregon’s history. Bottomly continues, “Oregon was founded as an exclusionary state openly hostile to people of color, and Portland today remains the whitest major city in America.” Investigative reporters were dispatched to review the archives and document the various ways that the paper has reinforced the ugly stain of racism as part of its legacy. The series of articles reviews the paper’s coverage of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, the Japanese internment camps of the 1940s, and many other contentious issues in its more than 170 years of existence.

Bottomly said, “I thought we would find the newspaper had missed stories, ignored major cultural movements, and been behind the times. And, yes, we found sins of omission, to be sure. But the gravest mistakes were sins of commission.”

It was surely a difficult decision for Bottomly and her staff to delve this deeply into such sordid chapters of their history. But she has no regrets. “This has been a painful and necessary exercise of self-examination. This history is hard to read but you must. And you must hold us to our pledge to always do better.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Each of us bear a responsibility to tell the truth about our history and the roles we play, not just as individuals but as members of families, organizations, and nations. In situations where we've inherited a godly legacy, we should rejoice. Where there is a legacy of sin, we should repent.

A playground scene turned tragic after a woman was shot and killed after a basketball game. Cameron Hogg, 31, is facing murder charges in connection to the shooting of Asia Womack, 21. Womack had recently defeated Hogg in pickup basketball, and witnesses say the game was heated and that there was plenty of trash talk on the court. Later that day, Hogg drove his truck to another location where Womack and another friend were seated outside, watching a football game on TV. When Hogg got out of his truck, Womack stood up, ready for another confrontation. But instead of saying a word, Hogg pulled out a firearm and shot her four times.

Her mother Andrea lamented the killing, noting that the two had been friends. She said, ”He’d pull up to my house, pick her up. They’d ride together, eat food together, take his phone calls, give him money in jail, and you turn around and kill her? It was senseless for him to kill his friend over a basketball game … Not even the basketball game itself, but the words that were spoken after the game."

After witnesses identified Hogg in a photo lineup, police arrested him without incident.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Society is witnessing increasing acts of spontaneous rage and extreme violence. This highlights the words of Scripture which describes that “the works of the flesh are evident…strife, jealousy, fits of anger” (Gal. 5:19-21) and confirms that “in the last days terrible times will come. For men will be abusive … unloving, unforgiving … without self-control … brutal” (2 Tim. 3:1-5).

Viola Davis has been hailed as one of the greatest actresses of her generation. According to one film critic, watching her act is to watch someone draw on “private hardship” and then “witness a deep-sea plunge into a feeling.” Davis claims that there is one memory that defines her “private hardship.”

When she was in third grade, a group of boys made a game out of chasing her home at the end of the school day. They would taunt her, yelling insults and slurs, throwing stones and bricks at her, while she ducked and dodged and wept.

One day, the boys caught her. Her shoes were worn through to the bottom, which slowed her down. The boys pinned her arms back and took her to their ringleader, who would decide what to do with her next. They were all white, except for the ringleader. He identified as Portuguese to differentiate himself from African Americans, despite being nearly the same shade as Davis. Unlike her, he could use his foreign birth to distance himself from the town’s racism: He wasn’t like those Black people.

“She’s ugly!” he said.

“I don’t know why you’re saying that to me,” she said. “You’re Black, too!”

The ringleader screamed that he wasn’t Black at all. He punched her, and the rest of the boys threw her onto the ground and kicked snow on her.

Davis went on to be nominated for two Oscars. But she realized that not only had she remained that terrified little girl, tormented for the color of her skin, but that she also defined herself by that fear. All these years later, she was still running. … Davis’ early life is dark and unnerving, full of bruises, loss, grief, death, trauma. But that day after school was perhaps her most wounding memory: It was the first time her spirit and heart were broken.

While rumors of racial slurs and other untoward behavior continued to encircle New Jersey mayor Sal Bonaccorso, he steadfastly denied any involvement, calling the accusations offensive. But once evidence proved otherwise, the mayor was forced into a quick about-face. Mayor Bonaccorso said in a YouTube video, “It was wrong. I am embarrassed and ashamed to have spoken that way about a race of people.”

His swift admission was prompted by the release of several audio recordings as part of an investigation. It unearthed not only the racial slurs themselves, but the fact that the city of Clark Township had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in settlements and other legal proceedings to prevent them from being found.

The recordings were part of a lawsuit that had been drafted by Antonio Manata, previously a lieutenant with the Clark Police Department. He had complained for years of rampant racism and sexism in the department, but felt his progress at reporting the troublesome behavior had been stonewalled by the mayor and other top leaders. To document the behaviors, Manata made a series of secret recordings of the mayor and other high-level CPD officers. When he threatened to expose them, the town agreed to pay large sums of money to get him to drop the lawsuit and relinquish the recordings.

At a town council meeting after the story came to light, Bonaccorso tried to plead his case with the community, saying he disagreed with the decision to settle. But Clark resident La’Tesha Sampson, said she was disappointed at the mayor’s lack of apology. She called his initial response “really, really disturbing.”

The criticism after that council meeting is what prompted the mayor’s YouTube apology. Bonaccorso says he’s learned a lot from recent protests for racial justice, especially those that occurred in the wake of George Floyd’s killing during the summer of 2020. He just hadn’t learned enough to be truthful about his mistakes … at least not until he had no other choice.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Jesus reserved his harshest criticisms for leaders who made a show of respectability but gave voice or thought to evil in private.

In an issue of CT magazine, Kim Phuc Phan Thi shares how a napalm attack in Vietnam scarred her body, but it also led her to Christ.

You have seen my picture a thousand times. I am nine years old, running along a puddled roadway, arms outstretched, naked, shrieking in pain and fear, the dark contour of a napalm cloud billowing in the distance. Those bombs have brought me immeasurable pain. The emotional and spiritual pain was even harder to endure.

As a child, she was raised in the religion of Cao Dai (pronounced cow-die). For years, she prayed to the gods of Cao Dai for healing and peace. But when her prayers went unanswered, it became clear that either they were nonexistent or did not care about her.

One day in 1982, in Saigon’s central library she opened the New Testament. As she read through the Gospels, at least two themes became abundantly clear. The first was that although Cao Dai said there were many gods, Jesus made a straightforward claim: “I am the way you get to God; there is no other way but me” (John 14:6). Second, Jesus had suffered in defense of his claim. He had been mocked, tortured, and killed. Why would he endure these things, she wondered, if he were not God?

I had never been exposed to this side of Jesus—the wounded one, the one who bore scars. I came to believe that he really was who he said he was. And most important to me, he really would do all that he had promised in his Word. Perhaps he could help me make sense of my pain and at last come to terms with my scars.

My salvation experience happened on Christmas Eve. It was 1982, and I was attending a special worship service at a small church in Saigon. How desperately I needed peace, love, and joy. I had so much hatred in my heart. I wanted this Jesus. So, I made my way to the front of the sanctuary to say yes to Jesus Christ. I experienced the kind of healing that can only come from God. I was finally at peace.

Nearly half a century has passed since I found myself running—frightened, naked, and in pain— down that road in Vietnam. I will never forget the horrors of that day. (But) my faith in Jesus has enabled me to forgive those who have hurt and scarred me. Today, I thank God for everything—even for that road. Especially for that road.

In CT magazine, Greg Stier shares his journey from a violent dysfunctional family background to the salvation of his extended family:

To my five-year-old self, it was a perfect afternoon. No gunshots, no gang-filled cars creeping by looking for trouble as they often did in our neighborhood. Everything was good that day—at least until a shiny, new car pulled up. It was Paul, one of the men my Ma had married. He had up and left us without warning, and we hadn’t heard from him in months.

Ma caught sight of him out the kitchen window. Cursing like a sailor, she hunted down our baseball bat. Charging out of the house, she started swinging at the headlights and the windshield. When he peeled off, I knew we’d never see him again.

Instantly, I realized two things: One, I would never disobey Ma again. And two, something had ignited a rage in her that consistently led to incidents like this. Years later, my grandma told me what that something was.

Ma was a partier, and I was a result of one of the parties. She got pregnant. Instead of facing her conservative Baptist parents, Ma drove from Denver to Boston, under the pretense of visiting my uncle Tommy and aunt Carol. But she was really there to get an illegal abortion. Tommy and Carol talked her out of it.

Until my grandma told me I was almost aborted, I had wondered why Ma would often cry when she looked at me while reproaching herself: “I’m a bum. I’m nothing but a no-good bum.” But after I learned her secret, I understood—not only her tears, but her rage toward men. It was a shame-fueled rage.

My entire family was filled with rage. Ma had five bodybuilding, street-fighting brothers, whom the North Denver mafia nicknamed “the crazy brothers.” You know it’s bad when even the mafia thinks your family is dysfunctional.

My Baptist grandparents took me to church, and one day in “big church,” everything suddenly made sense. The preacher shared how Jesus died for our sins and rose again. He said that if we put our faith in him, we would be saved. At the age of eight, I trusted in Christ as my Savior.

Miraculously enough, at around the same time, God was working renewal within my family as well. A hillbilly, church-planting preacher nicknamed Yankee reached out to Uncle Jack, the toughest of the “crazy brothers,” on a dare. When Yankee knocked on the door, Jack had a beer can in each hand. Surprisingly, he listened to Yankee’s gospel presentation.

“Does that make sense?” Yankee asked Jack. “H***, yeah!” was his sinner’s prayer. In just one month, Jack brought 250 people to church, wanting them to hear this same good news that gave him hope. One by one, all my uncles came to Christ. But the person most on my heart was Ma.

When I tried telling her about Jesus, she would shut me down. She’d say, “God can’t forgive me. You don’t know the things I’ve done.” Finally, at the age of 15, I marched into the kitchen and made Ma listen to the gospel. “You mean to tell me that if I trust in Jesus, he forgives me for every sin?” she asked. “Even the really bad ones?” “Yeah, Ma. That’s why he died on the cross,” I explained.

She took a drag of her cigarette, stared off into space for a moment, and said, “I’m in.” And when my Ma said she was in, she was in.

At age eight, I had met the Father I’d never known, the Father who would never leave me nor forsake me, the Father who changed the trajectory of my life and the lives of my whole family.

Editor’s Note: Greg Stier is the founder of Dare 2 Share Ministries. He is the author of Unlikely Fighter: The Story of How a Fatherless Street Kid Overcame Violence, Chaos, and Confusion to Become a Radical Christ Follower.

Spokane County prosecutor Larry Haskell has been put on the defensive because of increased scrutiny surrounding his wife and her online commentary. According to the Spokane alternative weekly The Inlander, Lesley Haskell has been outspoken in her beliefs on the social networking platform Gab, which was established as an alternative to sites like Twitter and Facebook that have rules prohibiting hate speech and/or threats of violence.

Leslie Haskell was reported as using several slurs for Black, Jewish, Latin, and other ethnic groups, which she defended under the banner of free speech. She also referred to herself as a “white nationalist,” and defended the Ku Klux Klan as an example of “white culture.”

On the official prosecutor’s website, Larry Haskell was forced to disavow these views. He wrote:

I do not and will not tolerate racial bias or discrimination in any form. People that know me fully understand those are not my views. I do not tolerate racial bias or disparate treatment of any kind as proven by my words, deeds, and treatment of others during my tenure as prosecutor.

In their defense, Larry and Leslie Haskell have good company. Plenty of high-profile couples on differing sides of the political aisle have prospered over the years, like former Trump administration spokesperson Kellyanne Conway and her husband George, who co-founded the anti-Trump advocacy group The Lincoln Project.

Still, critics point out that public confidence in Larry Haskell’s ability to be unbiased is undercut when his wife spews out racist rhetoric. William S. Bailey of the University of Washington Law School agrees. He said: “There is no doubt in my mind that if Larry Haskell was a judge and this information about his wife came out, he would have to recuse himself from any case if asked to do so by an attorney for a party.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Regardless if we agree or disagree with other’s political and social views, we must never descend into racial slurs and judging others. We should be careful that the negative views of those we associate with do not affect us.

Wendy Wein visited the website RentAHitman.com to attempt to arrange the murder of her ex-husband. But she wasn’t corresponding with “Guido Fanelli,” the sites ostensible owner, but a man named Bob Innes, a California man who works in internet security.

Innes initially built the site for his internet security business back in 2005, but over the years, he’s received several inquiries from people who take its name literally and think he’s offering murder-for-hire. To engage, site visitors are asked to fill out a service request form with a name, email address, and phone number. Each time it happens, Innes turns over the contact information to local law enforcement.

Thus, when Wein was contacted for a sit-down at a local café, it was not with a shadowy assassin, but rather, an undercover police detective. Wein repeatedly told the detective she wanted her ex-husband murdered, and paid $200 as a cash down payment on a $5,000 fee. As a result, Wein was arrested several days later, and charged with using a computer to commit a crime, which carries a maximum penalty of 20 years in prison, and solicitation of murder, which has the potential for a life sentence.

Possible Preaching Angle:

1) Evil deeds committed in darkness will eventually be brought to light, and evildoers will face judgment; 2) We may not be guilty of attempted murder, but many of us have harbored anger towards another. The Lord said that this is also a sin (Matt. 5:22).

Stephen Olford tells the story of Peter Miller, a Baptist pastor during the American Revolution. Miller, lived in Ephrata, Pennsylvania, and one of his dearest friends was General George Washington. In the town of Ephrata there also lived a spiteful troublemaker named Michael Wittman who did all he could to oppose and humiliate Miller.

One day, Wittman was arrested for treason and sentenced to death. When he heard the news, Miller set out to Philadelphia to plead for the life of his enemy. After walking seventy miles—on foot—Miller petitioned his friend, General Washington, to spare Wittman’s life.

“No, Peter,” General Washington said. “I cannot grant you the life of your friend.”

“My friend?” exclaimed the old preacher. “He’s not my friend. In fact, he is the bitterest enemy I have.”

“What?” cried Washington. “You’ve walked seventy miles to save the life of an enemy? That puts the matter in different light. I’ll grant your pardon.” And he did.

That day, Miller and Wittman walked back home to Ephrata together. When they arrived home, they were no longer enemies. They were friends.

At 101-years-old, Eddie Jaku has over a century of wisdom and life experience to draw from—and he's trying to use it to help others see the world in a more positive light. The self-described "happiest man in the world" has given a TED Talk and written a book about his philosophy.

Jaku is also a Holocaust survivor. He was born in Germany and said that “I thought I lived in the most civilized, most cultured and certainly the most educated country in Europe. And I was German first, and German second, and Jewish at home.”

On November 9, 1938, after Nazi forces burned synagogues and destroyed Jewish homes, stores and other property, Jaku returned home from boarding school to an empty home. In the morning, he was taken to Buchenwald concentration camp. Over the course of years, Jaku and his family reunited, escaped and lived in hiding. But in 1943, they were arrested again and sent to Auschwitz.

Jaku said, "I was finally transported to my hell on Earth, Auschwitz. My parents and my sister were also transported to Auschwitz, and I was never to see my parents again." More than 6six million Jewish people were killed in the Holocaust. In 1945, Jaku was sent on a "death march" but escaped into the wilderness. He was rescued in June of that year.

Jaku said that after the war, he was miserable—until he met his wife, Flore, and started a family. He said, “Eighty years ago, I didn't think I (would) have a wife and children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is a blessing."

Jaku said that despite his experiences, he does not hate anyone. "Hate is a disease that may destroy your enemy, but will also destroy you in the process. Where there is life is hope. If there's no more hope, you're finished.”

He added, “Family and friends are key to that hope. Friendship is priceless. Shared sorrow is half sorrow, but shared pleasure is double.” He said that he hopes his story inspires others to make positive choices every day. “I want to make this world a better place for everyone. I want everyone to take a step back and say ‘We are here for all of us.’”

You can watch his TED talk here.

The epidemic of call-out culture is very disturbing to Professor Loretta J. Ross. She is a Black feminist who has been doing human rights work for 40 years. Although she does not claim to be a Christian, she does share a valuable lesson. She writes:

Today’s call-out culture is so seductive, I often have to resist the overwhelming temptation to clap back at people on social media who get on my nerves. Call-outs happen when people publicly shame each other online, at the office, in classrooms or anywhere humans have beef with one another. But I believe there are better ways of doing social justice work.

In rural Tennessee in 1992, a group of women whose partners were in the Ku Klux Klan asked me to provide anti-racist training to help keep their children out of the group. All day they called me a “well-spoken colored girl” and inappropriately asked that I sing Negro spirituals.

Instead of reacting, I responded. I couldn’t let my hurt feelings sabotage my agenda. I listened to how they joined the white supremacist movement. I told them how I felt when I was eight and my best friend called me “n---er.” The women and I made progress. I did not receive reports about further outbreaks of racist violence from that area for my remaining years monitoring hate groups.

We can change this culture. Calling-in is simply a call-out done with love. Some corrections can be made privately. Others will necessarily be public, but done with respect. So, take comfort in the fact that you offered a new perspective of information and you did so with love and respect. But the thing that I want to emphasize is that the calling-in practice means you always keep a seat at the table for them if they come back.

Back in 1912, Willa and Charles Bruce were one of the first African-American landowners in Los Angeles County after purchasing a plot of oceanside property and opening one of the only non-racially-segregated resorts in the area.

Despite the grateful patronage of Black visitors, “Bruce’s Beach” eventually became a target of racist attacks from a local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan. Family historian Duane Shephard said, “They started harassing my family around 1920. They burned a cross. They threw burning mattresses under the porch of one of the buildings.”

By 1924, the city used the process of eminent domain as a pretext to seize the property from the Bruce family and turn it into a public park. L.A. County Supervisor Janice Hahn said, “These people were terrorized and kicked out of a community where they were trying to live peacefully. Here were some Black lives, and they didn't matter 100 years ago. But I think they matter now.” Hahn made those comments in a news conference announcing the decision from the local city council to return that land to the descendants of Willa and Charles Bruce.

Local resident Malissia Clinton wonders what her community would look like had that injustice not taken place: “This community might be teeming with Black folks if we had not destroyed that family. It changed the trajectory, not only of their lives and their offspring but of this community.”

The county plans to give the property back to the Bruce family descendants, then lease the property from them, in order to keep it accessible to the community while providing income for the family. It also authorized $350,000 to spend on public art commemorating the family.

When asked what the original couple would’ve thought of this gesture, Shepard was emphatic. "Oh, they would have loved it. I'm sure they're proud of us right now for fighting to get that back.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Even as the righteous pursue justice, let them not lose hope that injustices can be made right again, for with God all things are possible.