One of the most common responses I get when I start talking about nonviolence is actually pretty simple:

“But I’m not a violent person.”

And honestly, I get it.

Most of us aren't walking around looking for fights. We aren't carrying weapons or physically attacking people

One of the most common responses I get when I start talking about nonviolence is actually pretty simple:

“But I’m not a violent person.”

And honestly, I get it.

Most of us aren't walking around looking for fights. We aren't carrying weapons or physically attacking people

There is a phrase I have heard more than once when talking about nonviolence, enemy-love, forgiveness and peacemaking within Christianity. Usually it comes with a smile.

“Isn’t this all just a bit hippie?

There is a phrase I have heard more than once when talking about nonviolence, enemy-love, forgiveness and peacemaking within Christianity. Usually it comes with a smile.

“Isn’t this all just a bit hippie?

When people talk about the early church, we can easily imagine a single, unified movement that believed the same things and practised the same faith everywhere. The reality is a little more complicated.

The earliest Christian communities were diverse. They wrestled with different questions, interpreted Scripture in different ways, and sometimes disagreed quite sharply with one another. Yet beneath these differences we find something remarkable: a common commitment to a shared way of life.

When people talk about the early church, we can easily imagine a single, unified movement that believed the same things and practised the same faith everywhere. The reality is a little more complicated.

The earliest Christian communities were diverse. They wrestled with different questions, interpreted Scripture in different ways, and sometimes disagreed quite sharply with one another. Yet beneath these differences we find something remarkable: a common commitment to a shared way of life.

Occasionally I’m asked, why call it The Nonviolent Gospel Network? Well let me try and answer that.

Over the last decade there has been a remarkable awakening among Christians who have found themselves re-examining the faith they inherited. This movement has often been called “deconstruction”, though that word now covers all sorts of different journeys.

Occasionally I’m asked, why call it The Nonviolent Gospel Network? Well let me try and answer that.

Over the last decade there has been a remarkable awakening among Christians who have found themselves re-examining the faith they inherited. This movement has often been called “deconstruction”, though that word now covers all sorts of different journeys.

We hear a lot today about the psychological benefits of forgiveness, and rightly so. Therapists, counsellors and neuroscientists have shown how bitterness and resentment slowly eat away at us. Carrying anger for a long time shapes the way we see other people, and eventually even how we see ourselves. It drains us, turns us inward and keeps old wounds alive, often in ways that are difficult to notice while it is happening.

We hear a lot today about the psychological benefits of forgiveness, and rightly so. Therapists, counsellors and neuroscientists have shown how bitterness and resentment slowly eat away at us. Carrying anger for a long time shapes the way we see other people, and eventually even how we see ourselves. It drains us, turns us inward and keeps old wounds alive, often in ways that are difficult to notice while it is happening.

The cross reveals not only what Jesus refuses to do. It reveals the kind of desire that animates his entire life. Jesus does not overcome violence through a greater act of violence. He does not defeat his enemies by becoming like them. Instead, he reveals a completely different source from which human beings can live: a desire rooted not in rivalry, scarcity or fear, but in the abundant love of the Father.

Interestingly, decades after Girard first proposed his theory of mimetic desire, discoveries in neuroscience have provided some fascinating insights into just how relational human beings really are.

In the 1990s, Italian researchers studying macaque monkeys made an unexpected discovery. While observing activity in individual neurons in a monkey’s brain, they noticed something remarkable.

What if the goal of Christian discipleship is not simply to make us better behaved, but to transform what we love, what we long for and, ultimately, what we desire?

Much of modern Christianity has understandably focused on behaviour. We often measure spiritual growth by asking questions like: What should Christians do? What habits should we stop? How can we become better people?