fanaticism

In my return to the Writing Life, it surprises me how often an idea gets stuck in my head and blocks everything else. I can't move forward until I write about whatever is sitting front and center. Writing about literature when I need to process vocation doesn't work. Writing about joy when grief is prevalent is almost impossible. Writing about music when a book has taken hold of my heart is not doable.

And so, for quite a while, I've been wrestling with the fact that I need to write about guns. Because that has been on my mind.

How could it not be? Gun violence is at the forefront of national discourse right now. Since the shootings in Newtown, people are coming out of the woodwork to call for gun control. Before that, there were several shootings here in Minnesota—two teens shot and killed; a police officer not twenty miles from me shot and killed. Therefore, this is a post that has been percolating for quite a while.

I have never been a fan of guns. They have always scared me. Guns cause pain and grief. That is the point of them. My feelings for guns were cemented after my uncle killed himself with one.

I do not fancy myself a fanatic about many things. Generally, I can look at various sides of an issue to see another person's point of view. I certainly have my opinions about issues, but I work hard to respect other people's beliefs and views.

On the issue of guns, however, I lean toward the fanatical. In the national discourse since Newtown, there have been quite a few people who have said, "I'm not anti-gun, but I support gun control." It is a statement that strikes me as slightly odd: the people who say it seem afraid of aligning themselves against guns. Why? What is wrong with being anti-gun?

I am anti-gun.

I have family members and friends who are hunters. I have at least one friend who has a gun for safety. I do not understand it, and I do not think it sensible. Were it possible, I'd get rid of every single gun on the planet. Every. Single. One.

There's talk about preserving the rights of "responsible" gun owners. Sure, most people who have guns are responsible. My uncle was responsible. And then he wasn't.

I am anti-gun because guns harm. It's what they are made to do. I simply do not understand why, as a nation, we are so obsessed with maintaining a right to own and use something that's primary purpose is pain, if not death.

There are, of course, other weapons in this world of ours. And perhaps I am naive in my wish that the need for them would disappear.

I'd like to think, however, that it reflects more on my faith in the God who came that we may have life—and have it abundantly.