The World of our Grandchildren

I often find myself wondering what kind of world our grandchildren will inherit. While war wages in Ukraine and Gaza, riotous protests in Nepal, increasing violent murders in the United States, I wonder, will their world be one marked by peace, justice, and human flourishing—or one scarred by violence, fear, and a church that has lost its way?

The world events this week are sobering. And at home, acutely felt. In 1996 when our first child was born, the Centers for Disease Control reported 34,040 firearm-related deaths in the United States—about 93 every single day. By 2022, that number had risen to 48,830 deaths, or 134 per day. Even when we account for population growth, the rate of gun deaths has increased, rising from 12.7 per 100,000 people in 1996 to 14.7 per 100,000 in 2022.

Preliminary figures from 2023 show a slight decline, yet gun deaths remain well above the levels of the 1990s. Most sobering of all, firearms are now the leading cause of death for American children and teens, surpassing car accidents and overdoses (Pew Research Center, 2025).

Data for 2025, the year our grandsons were born, is still incomplete but there is little hope that things have improved as recent events seem to foretell an ongoing propensity for violence. Pure and simple, the risk of dying by firearm is greater today than it was a generation ago.

I cannot help but reflect on this in light of the early church’s witness. The great apologist Origen (c. 185–254 AD) lived through the violent persecutions of Rome. His father, Leonides, was martyred when Origen was still a teenager. Later, Origen himself was imprisoned and tortured under Decius, eventually dying from his injuries. He knew violence intimately. Yet he wrote in Against Celsus:

“[Christ] nowhere teaches that it is right for His own disciples to offer violence to any one, however wicked. For He did not deem it in keeping with such laws as His, which were derived from a divine source, to allow the killing of any individual whatever.” (VII)

In other words, Origen’s theology of peace was not naïve idealism; it was forged in the crucible of suffering. Though surrounded by violence, he refused to justify violence in return.

This ancient conviction speaks prophetically into our moment. As I contend in When Evangelicals Sneeze (2020), American evangelicalism has too often traded the way of the cross for the way of cultural and political power. Some have even baptized the gun as a symbol of freedom forgetting that our true freedom is in Christ who conquered not by the sword but by love. When the church aligns itself with instruments of death, it abandons its mission and weakens its witness. We should all be hearing Jesus’ words to His disciples, “For all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matt 26:52).

The question, then, is pressing: What kind of world will we leave for our grandchildren? Will they inherit a church that capitulated to fear and violence? Or one that, like the martyrs and apologists of old, embodied the christoform love of Jesus in the midst of hostility?

Origen’s words still echo. They remind us that faithfulness, not firepower, is our calling. Love, not the gun, is our enduring symbol.

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While very few of us are called to be certified counselors, everyone should have the basic training needed to respond to someone who is dealing with tragedy, mental health struggles, abuse, or trauma – especially Christians.

Train your team to help people overcome trauma and mental health challenges. We’ve got a serious problem. People around the world are at a breaking point when it comes to our mental, emotional, and spiritual health. Yet many Christians aren’t responding to those who have gone through trauma. And the primary reason we aren’t doing more to help is that we don’t believe we’re qualified to help. After all, it’s one thing to feed a hungry mouth or clean up a local park, but mental health? That’s best left to the professionals. Right? 

This belief leads us to defer to “outside experts” to handle the heavy stuff. But in doing so, we the Church are losing our voice to help the hurting. Think of it this way – not everyone can be a heart surgeon, but we can all learn CPR to help save a life. The same is true when it comes to helping those who have faced a traumatic experience.