The Slow Violence of Division

Reflecting on Proverbs 6:16-19

There are things that fracture the soul.
Things that unravel a people from the inside out.
Not all at once.
Usually slowly. Quietly. Like rot beneath the floorboards of a house that still looks beautiful from the street.

And Proverbs says God hates these things.

Not because God is angry in the fragile, explosive way humans are angry.
Not because God is easily offended.
But because God sees what these things do to people.
To families.
To communities.
To the human heart.

So…what are these things?

“Haughty eyes…”

That posture where a person begins to stand above others instead of beside them.
The subtle intoxication of superiority.
The need to be right. To win. To be seen as more enlightened, more spiritual, more important.Pride rarely enters the room announcing itself.

It usually arrives dressed as certainty.

And once pride takes root, people stop listening.
They stop learning.
They stop loving.

“A lying tongue…”

Because language creates worlds.
Every word spoken builds something.
Trust or suspicion.
Healing or division.
Life or death.

A lie is never just a false statement.
It’s an assault on reality itself.
It bends the fabric of trust that holds human relationships together.
And eventually… people no longer know what is real.

Or who is safe.

“Hands that shed innocent blood…”

Violence is not only physical.
There are ways we crucify people without ever touching them.

A rumor.
A betrayal.
A public humiliation.
A character assassination disguised as discernment.

There are bloodless forms of murder we baptize in religious language.

“A heart that devises wicked plans…”

Notice the progression.
This isn’t accidental brokenness.
This is cultivated darkness.

A heart rehearsing harm.
Strategizing destruction.
Feeding resentment until it becomes identity.

We become what we continually contemplate.

“Feet that hurry to run to evil…”

Some people sprint toward chaos.
They move fast toward outrage.
Fast toward offense.
Fast toward gossip.
Fast toward division.

Because evil has a gravitational pull when the soul has not learned stillness.
And then the proverb lands on the final line like a hammer:

“One who sows discord in a family.”

Interesting, isn’t it?
Of all the sins listed, the culmination is division.

Because the enemy’s oldest strategy has never changed:
separate people from God,
and then separate people from each other.

Divide marriages.
Divide churches.
Divide friends.
Divide brothers and sisters.

If you can fracture trust, you can fracture a people.
And this is why unity is so sacred in Scripture.

Not uniformity.
Not pretending.
Not silence.

But the hard, holy work of remaining connected in truth and love.
Because every gathering of humans moves in one of two directions:
toward communion,
or toward fragmentation.

Every conversation.
Every email.
Every whispered comment after the meeting.
Every social media post.
Every private resentment we nurture instead of heal.

We are always either sewing garments of peace…or sowing seeds of division.

And maybe the deepest invitation of Proverbs 6 is not merely to avoid evil, but to become the kind of people who heal what evil fractures.

People whose eyes are humble.
Whose tongues tell truth.
Whose hands protect life.
Whose hearts imagine goodness.
Whose feet run toward mercy.
Whose presence reconciles rather than divides.

Because this is the way of Jesus.

The One who stepped into a world addicted to accusation and violence…
and refused to return evil for evil.
The One who shed His own blood rather than demand ours.The One who came not to scatter humanity further…but to gather us home.

I sense the question sitting underneath Proverbs 6:16-19 is not simply:

“What sins should I avoid?”
But:
“What kind of presence am I becoming in the world?”

Because every one of us walks into rooms carrying something.
Some people carry anxiety.
Some carry suspicion.
Some carry ego.
Some carry hidden violence.

And when they enter a room, the temperature changes.
People brace themselves.
Armor goes up.
Trust leaks out of the walls.

But then there are other people.

People who walk into chaos and somehow peace arrives with them.
People who tell the truth without needing to wound.
People who are humble enough to listen.
People who absorb offense instead of multiplying it.
People who refuse the addiction of outrage.
People who reconcile.
People who heal.

And you know these people when you meet them.
Because around them, your soul exhales.

This is the invitation of Jesus.
Not merely behavior modification.
Not simply avoiding bad things.

But becoming the kind of human who reflects the wholeness of God back into a fractured world.
A person incapable of sowing discord because Christ has dealt with the discord within them.

Because the truth is:

…we cannot heal division outside us while nurturing division inside us.

And maybe this is why the Spirit spends so much time working beneath the surface.

In motives.
In wounds.
In ego.
In resentment.
In the secret need to be vindicated.

Because long before division appears in public…

it was first rehearsed in private.

And the Kingdom of God comes differently than the kingdoms of this world.
The kingdoms of this world survive by accusation.
By scapegoating.
By fear.
By power.
By making enemies.

But the Kingdom of God advances through peacemakers.
Truth tellers.
Foot washers.
Enemy lovers.
Bridge builders.

The world teaches us how to win arguments.
Jesus teaches us how to heal people.

And perhaps that is why Proverbs says God hates these things.

Because God is fiercely protective of communion.
Of shalom.
Of the sacred thread that binds humans together in love.
God hates whatever destroys His beloved.

So today the invitation is simple:

Pay attention to what you are planting.
Because every thought becomes a seed.
Every word becomes a seed.
Every conversation becomes a seed.
Every post.
Every whisper.
Every grievance left unchecked.

Seeds.

And eventually, the field of your life becomes the harvest of what you planted there.
So plant peace.
Plant truth.
Plant mercy.
Plant humility.
Plant reconciliation.

Become the kind of person who makes it harder for hell to spread.
Become the kind of presence that reminds people what God is like.

Because in a world tearing itself apart…that may be one of the holiest acts left.

A Lament for a Nation Unmoored

There is blood on the ground again.
A young woman in North Carolina,
who fled one war only to be swallowed by another …
stabbed on a train,
her story cut short before she even had a chance to write it.

A congresswoman in Minnesota and her husband,
executed in the quiet of their own home …
a sanctuary turned into a grave.

Children in a school,
their laughter silenced by gunfire.

And a man … Charlie Kirk …
shot while speaking words to a crowd.
And before the echo of the bullet fades,
before we know who or why,
the blame game begins.
Because we already know, don’t we?
We already have our villains picked out.

This is what it means to be unmoored.
To drift.
To lose sight of the shore.
To shout across the waters
instead of rowing toward one another.

We rage.
We divide.
We accuse.
We forget that we belong to each other.

Sit quietly. Breathe. Let the weight of what we know settle in our bones.
We live in a time of sharp edges …
a time when words are weapons before they are bridges.

The story of America was always a grand experiment …
a fragile dream
that people with different names and faces and prayers
could actually live together.

But somewhere along the way
we confused difference with danger.
And now we are drowning in the waters of our own hate.

And into this chaos,
a voice still whispers:

“Do not be overcome by evil,
but overcome evil with good.”
~Romans 12:21

Let that be our lantern in the dark.
Not to deny evil … to name it, to resist it … but to refuse to become what we despise.
To resist the shrug of indifference, the snap of judgment, the hardening of the heart.

Not platitude.
Not sentiment.
Resistance.
Rebellion.
A counter-narrative in a world where anger is currency
and hate is power.

So what do we do with this ache,
this grief,
this fracture?

We weep.
We lament.
We refuse to numb ourselves.

We name the evil.
We sit in the tension.
We cry out to the One who hears the blood of Abel still
crying from the ground.

And we remember …
we do not have to agree to love.
We do not have to understand to honor.
We do not have to win to serve.

So …. we lament

We lament These are not isolated tragedies; they stitch together a pattern. A rising heat of fear. A widening chasm in what we believe, who we are allowed to be, and who we think deserves justice or pity.

We lament that we do not yet know the full stories … the motives, the shadows, the human hearts in them … yet we so quickly assign them to “other,” to “them.”
We lose integrity in our haste.

We lament that civility is ever more fragile; trust ever more scarce.
That the presence of another … different in speech, in belief, in background … feels like threat. That compassion is increasingly viewed as weakness.

May we live as people who follow the Romans’ call … resisting evil, but not becoming evil; loving even when angry; speaking truth even when tempted by blame.

May our nation, which is unmoored, find its anchor again: justice, mercy, peace.
May our neighbors be recognized … not as enemies to defeat, but as souls to see.

O God … anchor us.
O Christ … heal us.
O Spirit … breathe civility, compassion, and courage
back into our weary lungs.

Until we learn again
that the only way forward
is to be overcome not by rage,
but by good.

Amen.

Come Up Here!

A reflection on Revelation 4

It begins with a door.
Always a door.

John, exiled, isolated, alone… and yet somehow more awake than the emperors and elites who sleep in marble palaces.
He hears a Voice, like a trumpet, like thunder cracking through silence.

“Come up here…”
The invitation isn’t to escape reality…
It’s to see reality as it actually is.

We think of Revelation as catastrophe.
But this chapter, this vision, is not of chaos.
It’s not about beasts, bowls, or blood.
It’s about the throne.

Because when your world feels like it’s falling apart…
what you need most is a vision of what holds it all together.


The Throne at the Center

John is not shown a map.
He’s not given a plan.
He’s given an image.

A throne.
At the center.
Still. Radiant. Holy.

And One sitting on it.
A kaleidoscope of color… jasper, carnelian, emerald…
Not to describe, but to evoke.
This is not an IKEA diagram for how the cosmos works.
This is art that rearranges your soul.

And around the throne?
Creatures you can’t categorize.
Eyes everywhere. Wings in motion.
A lion, an ox, a human, an eagle…
Earth, strength, intelligence, spirit.

Creation itself, animated and awake,
revolving around the One who was, and is, and is to come.


Worship is Resistance

They cry, “Holy, Holy, Holy…”

This isn’t soft, background music for religious people.
This is the soundtrack of defiance.
Worship in Revelation isn’t passive. It’s revolutionary.
It declares that Caesar is not king,
fear is not lord,
and death does not get the final word.

In a world where everything screams for attention,
Revelation 4 pulls us back to what actually matters…
Who is at the center.


The Twenty-Four

And the elders?
They throw down their crowns.

Because the closer you get to glory,
the less you want to hold onto anything.

They don’t just worship.
They surrender.

In a culture addicted to control,
this is the invitation:
Lay it down.
All of it.
Status, reputation, agenda, your little kingdoms.

Because every throne we build
has to be thrown down
before the One who sits on the throne.


The Door Is Still Open

Come up here…
John heard it.
So can you.

Revelation 4 isn’t a vision of the end.
It’s a vision of the now
beneath the surface of things.

There is a door.
There is a throne.
There is One seated.
And there is a song…
being sung by creation itself…
waiting for you to join in.

So the question isn’t:
“Is God still on the throne?”

The question is:
“Are you living like He is?”

Standing With My Asian Brothers & Sisters

People took part in vigils in Washington, D.C.’s Chinatown , Garden Grove, Calif., and Philadelphia on Wednesday night following the shootings in Atlanta, while mourners grieved outside Young’s Asian Massage, one of the three spas targeted by a gunman. Photos: Alex Wong/Getty Images; Apu Gomes/AFP/Getty Images; Shannon Stapleton/Reuters; Rachel Wisniewski/Reuters


Standing with my Asian Brothers and Sisters…

“Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.” ~1 John 3:15

Today I have, like you, read many tweets, thoughts, observations and news articles about the murder of eight people in the Atlanta Asian community. I would like to cut through all the spin out there surrounding this and first say that my heart is broken, and we in the Alliance NW mourn and grieve with our Asian friends, family, and churches that have already endured an intense year of racial hatred in America.

We stand with you…
We grieve with you…
We see you…
We speak out with you against the rise of Asian-racism…

In my mind, I hear the words of my Asian friends who have told me that the message they were taught growing up was to “keep their head down, work harder than anyone else and try to keep beneath the radar ” if they wanted to get ahead.In other words, “Here is how to survive in a “White” world.

We have had a year of escalation of hate toward Asians fueled by a national conversation surrounding COVID19 by calling it the “Kung-Flu” or the “China Virus” or other names that center the pandemic on a “people-group” making them the enemy. The result? Destroyed Asian restaurants, businesses and attacks on Asian people.

Words matter…
Sarcasm kills…

The spin has already begun…I have heard that, “The murderer had a sexual addiction, and the massage centers that the people worked in were a temptation… so, it’s not racial it’s sexual.”

It’s not that simple…it’s all connected…

As the murderer was a professed Evangelical Christian, blaming this on his sexual struggle misses the point. I see this as an unholy trinity of flawed sexual theology, unrepented of white supremacy systems, and an absolute devaluing of the sanctity of life…We have lost the concept of dignity towards others and we spin it in so many devaluing ways.

Is racism embedded? Yes
Is sexism embedded? Yes
Do we need to address our faulty sexual discipleship? Yes
Do we need to address the ethnic biases that exist in our lives, communities and churches? Yes

BUT…those realities and our focus on those things also dehumanizes this tragic loss of life. We forget that eight families have lost people they love and they lost them in a horrible, devastating and violent way that will leave scars on their souls forever.

Today would you pause with me and remember their lives.
Today would you pause with me and pray for our Asian friends and communities.
Today would you stand up and say “No More”

Grace and Peace,Monty