The Ultimate Sacrifice

I live in Denver, Colorado. I hope that when you think of Denver, you think of mountains and the beauty of God’s creation. But with the twentieth anniversary of the Columbine shooting recently passing as well as the more recent school shooting in Highlands Ranch, you may also think of danger or brokenness.

The pervasiveness of brokenness here is overwhelming. You likely feel the same about your town or city. Our city needs more Jesus, and we moved here unexpectedly six years ago to plant a church in hopes of doing exactly that—bringing Jesus here.

I don’t understand why shootings, and especially those in schools, continue to happen. I know it’s the presence of sin, but it’s disheartening to think about how children can believe taking the lives of others in a place that should be safe is the next best step. I do think we need wholesale systemic change, but this piece isn’t to get into that debate.

The recent Highlands Ranch shooting occurred less than a mile from the house we lived in during our first two years here. We didn’t personally know anyone who attended the school, but watching the chaos on the news, it felt really close to home. It’s only about twenty miles from our current home, so it really was close to home in a physical sense, not just in an emotional sense.

My heart ached for the teachers and students involved in the incident; for the first responders who put themselves in danger to keep others safe; for the staff who had to empty the rec center we frequented of all the usual visitors in order to mobilize a pickup location for 1,700 students; for all the parents of the children taken to the hospital as well as those who had to wait to learn their child was safe. It was such an incredibly ugly and tragic situation.

As the story of Kendrick Castillo unfolded, my heart broke even further. Here was a kind and successful kid who had his life in front of him. He intentionally put himself in harm’s way to save his friends. Whether he knew it or not, he literally demonstrated the love Jesus spoke of in John 15: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (v. 13 NIV).

We were home with our children (ages thirteen, eleven, and seven) that evening, and I felt the Holy Spirit nudge my heart. It shattered as I understood what he wanted me to do. I don’t recall trying to argue with him this time, but there may have been a few moments wherein I did. I took a deep breath and chose to submit.

I asked the kids to come into the living room where my husband and I were sitting. They were aware of the shooting, and I told them Kendrick’s story. As tears came into my eyes and my voice broke, I told them that I want them to take steps to be safe in most cases. However, because they love Jesus, if they are in a dangerous situation and feel brave, they should definitely take actions to keep their friends safe, even if it means harm to them. I told them Dad and I would be so sad, but we have the hope of seeing them in heaven. Their friends and friends’ parents may not know Jesus. I told them they have not only our permission but our blessing to follow the words of John 15:13. I also told them I hoped and prayed they were never in a position to have to make this choice.

All five of us were in tears as the conversation ended. It was the hardest conversation I’ve had with my children by a significant margin. To tell your children it’s OK if they have to leave this earth is a parent’s worst nightmare.

If we truly believe the gospel, and if we’ve really read God’s Word in a way that helps us understand the entire redemption story, we know that taking up the cross is not easy. We are not promised smooth sailing nor the absence of hardships. Our loving Father wants to bless us, but he will also allow us to go through trials. The ask to follow Jesus is a weighty one made lighter only by complete reliance on the Holy Spirit.

Several weeks later, I am still emotional about the shooting. To be clear, sadness was not the only emotion I felt. There was anger, too. There was fear in sending my children off to their schools the very next day in hopes they would be safe. Underneath the emotions, though, was the peace that passes understanding. I know to whom my children belong, and I can trust him with them. Even if the worst happens, I can trust him to carry me through the darkness. He is an amazing, beautiful God for giving us that assurance.

Amy Wiebe is a Jesus follower, wife, mom of three, church planter, finance director, and lover of sarcasm and deep conversation with friends. She also loves camping, rafting, skiing, sewing, and having people over. Amy blogs with her husband at fringechurch.com.