Desiring the salvation of everyone—including my son’s murderer

What is it about the comment sections of websites that attract the outrageous?

I suppose that there’s something intoxicating about sharing one’s thoughts in print, utterly democratized by the internet, unfiltered and raw. Add anonymity to this cocktail and people summon the courage to say almost anything.

I usually avoid such corners of the internet, but I confess that I did linger over news comment sections when my family and I were in the news. It is admittedly hard not to be curious, wondering what people were saying about us.

The circumstances that thrust us into news headlines were unpleasant. On March 10, 2022, my 23-year-old son Michael was on his way to his job as a fifth-grade schoolteacher, when he was abruptly murdered in cold blood. The young man who committed this crime is now serving a 40-year sentence in a Texas prison, parole eligible in half that time.

The online commentary was generally compassionate. People said some very nice things about the remarks I made in the courtroom when I confronted the perpetrator for the first time in person.

Mingled with the kindnesses, however, I found a lot of vengeful sentiment. Anonymous commenters spoke of the awful things they would do if they had been in my shoes; some took pleasure in thinking about the horrors that await the perpetrator in the Texas prison system; several expressed a desire that the perpetrator burn in hell for eternity.

So many of these angry, vengeful, hateful things are very easy to say. And when it’s your son that has been murdered, they’re even easier to feel.

All of this came to mind again because of the recent decision by President Joe Biden to commute the death sentences of 37 prisoners on federal death row, leaving them to live the rest of their days in prison without parole. Some reactions to this decision sounded all too familiar, but one stood out from the rest. (Note: I do not agree with Biden’s decision. I see nothing unjust in the use of capital punishment in these cases, especially when considering that some of these are murderers who continued to murder people while in prison. Each case should be viewed individually, of course, but my point is that capital punishment can be a just punishment.)

Our former-and-new President, Donald Trump, had this to say: “Also, to the 37 most violent criminals, who killed, raped, and plundered like virtually no one before them, but were just given, incredibly, a pardon by Sleepy Joe Biden. I refuse to wish a Merry Christmas to those lucky ‘souls’ but, instead, will say, GO TO HELL!”

Over the last two or three years, I have developed a renewed appreciation for what it means to believe what you say. Each day of my life, I would repeat the words of the Lord’s Prayer: forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. We are called as Christians to forgive, and every single day, we ask Our Lord to forgive us by that same measure. If I am to be forgiven by Our Father in heaven, I need to forgive my brother.

I knew in my mind that I needed to forgive the young man who took my son’s life, but I struggled to believe it in my heart. What helped to soften my hardened heart was reflecting on Jesus’ parable of the lost sheep in the Gospel of Luke.

“Just so, I tell you,” says, Jesus, “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Lk 15:7).

More joy in heaven? There can be more joy in an eternity with God? If a cold-blooded killer repents and turns towards the light, there will be more joy in heaven.

Why not the guy who killed my son? Who am I to stand in the way of more joy in heaven at his repentance?

These were some of the thoughts, the key moments of grace that helped me on the journey to forgiveness. I can earnestly desire the eternal salvation of the young man who killed my son. Salvation is the ultimate goal of the repentance that Jesus preached constantly in the Gospels, and his disciples after him (e.g. 2 Peter 3:9: “…not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance”).

Put another way, if you desire someone’s damnation, that puts you actively at odds with the Lord. Siding with Satan: that ‘s not a great place to be.

None of this merciful talk is meant to dismiss the need for justice. We mustn’t forget that justice is a virtue. I do not think it is a stretch to say that at least some of the 37 convicts deserved the death penalty, and I can completely understand the frustration of the families who sought that outcome and were deprived of it. I know such pain firsthand.

The young man who killed my son “only” murdered one person, so capital punishment was never even discussed. In time I came to realize that any search for justice on this earth would end in frustration; no amount of earthly retribution can return Michael to us. There is no happiness to be found in more evil or suffering. How hard do we have to look to see that “an eye for an eye” doesn’t end well?

The imperfections of mankind will never provide the true and complete justice found only in Our Father in heaven. I’ll do the best I can in this world, and focus on reunion with my son in the next one.

“Go to hell” is easy to say, trivially or earnestly. It is a sentiment in which no joy can be found. More joy can be found in repentance–it’s right there in the instructions.