HY THEY HATE US."  SO READ the huge headline on the October 15, 2001, Newsweek magazine cover, announcing its lead article on the recent acts of terror in New York and Washington.

And the piece brought the hand-wringers and irrationalists out of the woodwork. Said Heinz Hartmann, of Sweden: "The real question . . . is not 'Who has done it?' but 'Why was it done?' Then he asked plaintively: "What went wrong with the 'free world,' and when and where did it go wrong?"¹ According to Ebbe Norsk, of Denmark, "Young men turn themselves into suicide bombers not because they are evil, but because they think we are."² (Ponder that one for a while.) And in the view of Firth McEachern, of Egypt, terrorism "is rarely executed without reason."³ (Aren't you just dying to hear Mr. McEachern give an example of one of those "rare" instances when terrorism was executed without reason?)

Let me suggest that to attempt to find a valid reason for terrorism is to excuse it, however much we claim in the next breath to condemn it. And Bible-believing Christians will readily detect the fundamental fallacy in each of the preceding letter excerpts. For the real root, the real cause, of evil is not to be found in the policies of governments, however misguided; but in the twisted psyche of the human person, congenitally perverted by a thing called sin.

And the one who fans the flame of this distorted passion is still at large and becoming more dangerous with every passing moment. Said the seer of Patmos: "Woe to the earth and the sea, because the devil has gone down to you! He is filled with fury, because he knows that his time is short" (Rev. 12:12, NIV).

A frightening picture, isn't it? The wickedest person in the universe out to wreak havoc on a hapless planet, keenly aware his time is limited. On September 11 this archfiend came through at his infernal best, in New York and Washington. But his malignant handiwork spans the globe, and in little ways and big we see clear traces of his evil genius. This article catalogs a little of the brutality that stalks us, and points to a future beyond the rubble.

Violence to Children, and by Children
Speaking about the situation in Afghanistan in the wake of the September 11 tragedy (and before the start of the U.S. military action there), General Conference president Jan Paulsen, in a devotional presented to office staff at the Adventist Church's world headquarters, noted that of the 25 million people in that country, 99 percent of them are victims. "[But] it is the children who perhaps move me most," he said. "They are totally innocent. They are like pawns in someone's political game. They have nothing, nothing! It is a luxury if they get a piece of fruit to eat."

If you're reading this article in December or January, and in an area of the world where there is real winter, think how you'd feel if you went outside for 10 minutes in a regular summer outfit. Then think of Afghanistan. It's winter there now, and Afghan winters are rough, they tell me. Think of the fact that in that unfortunate land and in the surrounding region are millions of people, including hundreds of thousands of little children, living in tents (if they're lucky)—no heating, no blankets, and with the flimsiest clothing on their bodies. Think of the wretchedness, the misery, the suffering! With four years of drought having already brought the Afghan people to the brink, now this. And all because of the fanatical madness of a small group of psychopaths. God help the people. God help the children!⁴

And Afghanistan is only one case in point. In truth, there is enough misery in the world to go around. If we could wrap our heads around it all, we'd go stark mad. There aren't many cozy places left.

But in our crazy, mixed-up world children are not only victims. The same sinister being who engineers their abuse also incites them to engage in acts of horror. Reflect on this American litany for a minute: A school principal and a student killed by Evan Ramsay, 16. A language-arts teacher dead, killed by Nathaniel Brazill—age 13. A teacher and four students killed, 10 persons wounded, by Mitchell Johnson, age 13, and Andrew Golden, age 11. His own mother and two classmates dead, killed by Luke Woodham, 16. Three students killed, five wounded, by Michael Carneal, 14. And the Time magazine story went on to list several other young murderers—12 in all—who, since 1997, have together killed 21 people and wounded 62.⁵

A Culture of Violence
To a large extent the adult population must shoulder the blame for the growing violence in the world. One might note that the weapon of choice in each of the above situations was a gun—almost invariably belonging to a parent.

Our fascination with guns in the United States, notwithstanding the bloody results we've witnessed over the years, is absolutely baffling. Fueled by a powerful, clout-wielding gun lobby, the number of firearms in the possession of ordinary citizens is nothing short of astonishing. People need their guns to protect themselves, proponents insist. And for hunting.

Yes, hunting—another source of violence in our distorted world, violence against God's lower creatures in the name of sports and recreation.

In the summer of 2000 Time reporter Walter Kirn covered the annual convention of the Varmint Hunters Association in Pierre, South Dakota, and penned these gripping lines at the beginning of his report: "For every sportsman, there are certain moments when the elements of his pastime come together perfectly. The canoe breaks through the rapids. The marlin leaps. The spaniel flushes the grouse. For Duane Spooner, a North Dakota gunsmith, this ideal moment involves a rifle, a scope and a deadly long-range shot at his favorite quarry, the prairie dog. 'The head goes one way,' says Spooner, grinning, 'the tail goes the other way, and everything in between just disappears.' Spooner's son Eric, 16, shares his dad's enthusiasm. 'It's relaxing,' he says. 'I like seeing how high they fly. We have little contests where we go out and see who can get the longest hang time on a prairie dog.'⁶

How ghastly! And it's happening with foxes and deer and rabbits. Isn't it sad that we humans have turned out to be the single most lethal creatures on the planet. We're addicted to violence.

In our times we have witnessed two bloody worldwide military conflicts, with more than 50 million people killed. In addition, we've had the Korean War—more than 1 million killed; the Vietnam War—722,000; the Cultural Revolution under Mao Tse-tung in the fifties and sixties—some 30 million killed. Imagine the toll of innocent men, women, and children included in those incredible numbers. Imagine the misery, the pain, the injustice! In addition, think of the nightmare the following names (at random) represent: Treblinka; the Gulag; Angola; apartheid; Tienanmen Square; East Timor; the IRA; Sri Lanka; Burma; My Lai; Pol Pot; Sudan; Liberia; Congo; Burundi; Algeria; the Middle East; Ceausescu; the Taliban; Chechnya; Osama bin Laden; Al Queda.

To an alarming degree many of us have become callous. Or perhaps numb. We find it difficult to keep remembering some of the dark pages of recent history. Bosnia, for example, where we saw totally helpless men, women, and children massacred, with others gang-raped and otherwise brutalized and made to flee their homes in the dead of winter, for no other reason than their ethnic extraction. Or Rwanda, a crisis in which upwards of a half million Tutsis were slaughtered. In a touching reminiscence author Bill Berkeley, who just happened to be in place to witness the terrible tragedy and its immediate aftermath, told what he saw: "Those few weeks in June and July 1994 left me haunted and bewildered. Churches filled waist-high with decomposing corpses, orphans pulled from the piles of their murdered relatives, mass cholera, hideous machete wounds—there was a weird, surreal, science-fiction quality to Rwanda's catastrophe that defied easy emotions." Berkeley then asked, "How could so many ordinary people participate in so monstrous a crime?"⁷

How indeed!

But just when we thought things could hardly get worse, September 11 came. Just imagine commandeering jumbo jets filled with fuel and innocent people, and in an act of willful premeditation flying those vessels full-throttle into buildings packed with thousands of innocent human beings going about their normal business. Just imagine the cold-blooded beastliness of these acts.

And space will not permit me to mention the plight of millions of refugees spewing out from Liberia, from Sierra Leone, from Sudan, and elsewhere; people with no home, no address, and with the bleakest future before them. What horrendous tales they have to tell—of hunger, of naked brutality, of humiliation, of exploitation. And how about the plight of mothers across the planet, whose tears have soaked a billion pillows in the midnight hour. The plight of children whose fathers have been seized in the dead of night, never to be heard from again. To take it all in would crush the human spirit and drive us to insanity.

But it's the story of our world. A story of gargantuan suffering and tragedy and hurt.

Beyond the Rubble
One chilly Sunday afternoon in October I stood near ground zero in Manhattan. A memorial service was in progress, and thousands of people had descended on the place to gawk, to think, to reflect. For a while I stood among them, listening to the singing of the American national anthem, of "Ave Maria," and to words of exhortation from religious leaders. You listen to the chatter and hum around you, you read the faces of those nearby, and you wonder what everyone is thinking. What's everyone making of it? What do they think it means? When does it all end—this enormous obscenity that engulfs us all?

I returned to Washington amid heightened security at the airports and news of anthrax attacks everywhere. And it was hard to remember a time in the United States when the entire nation was so much on edge. So nervous. So tense. As I write this a deep sense of uncertainty and apprehension hangs over the entire country—so thick you can almost cut it with a knife.

At no other time in recent memory has the biblical hope seemed more relevant, more desired, more welcome. In the wake of the September 11 tragedy I heard no atheistic voices. No voices of secularism or agnosticism. Only voices offering hope, holding out assurance. For when the chips are down, that's what answers the deepest yearning of the human spirit. And that's precisely what the Bible offers.

Said the prophet of the Apocalypse, "I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away' (Rev. 21:3, 4, NIV).

What do we have here? The wishful thinking of a religious dreamer? The deluded concoctions of an unbalanced mind? Is this reality? Or is it fiction?

I don't know much, really, but I've sampled a good deal: the Western philosophical giants from Thales, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, down to their modern counterparts—such men as Friedrich Nietzsche, Alfred North Whitehead, and Jean-Paul Sartre. I'm no expert, but I've had occasion to look at the basic positions of Buddhism, Hinduism, Shintoism, Islam, and other Eastern religions. And I've tried as best I can to understand the basic postulates of modern science on the fundamental questions of human origin and destiny. And I think I can say with confidence that I've found them all wanting.

But in the Bible, the basic document of the Christian faith, I've discovered a book that synchronizes with reality in every sense. Oh yes, there are mysteries here. But they're of the kind you'd expect if God is who Scripture says He is. And it's from the dateless wisdom of this book that we learn that one day the redeemed across the centuries will meet in one great throng around the throne of God, where "they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes" (Rev. 7:16, 17). "And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away" (Isa. 35:10).

As I wrote somewhere else, it will be a new world order. A planet transformed. Perfect temperature. Perfect climate. No mosquitoes. No pollen. No allergies. No pain. No sickness. No divorce. No orphans. No widows. No disappointment. No guns. No land mines. No muggings. No terrorists. No killings. No jails. No hospitals. No war. No pollution. No racism. No exploitation. No poverty. No slums. No police. No prostitution. No perversion. No gambling. No crime. And no more death.

Anchored in the unshakable Word of God, this is the Christian hope. In that new world children will swim with sharks, ride the backs of tigers, and play wraparound with serpents. Jews and Arabs will dwell together. Easterners and Westerners. And every weapon will be melted to powder. "They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord" (Isa. 65:25; cf. 11:9).

¹ Letters, Newsweek, Oct. 22, 2001, p. 14.
² Ibid., p. 16.
³ Ibid.
⁴ The situation in Afghanistan is changing rapidly as we go to press—perhaps for the better.
⁵ "Voices From the Cell," Time, May 28, 2001, p. 34; see pp. 32-38.
⁶ Walter Kirn, "Reducing Varmints to 'Mist,' Time, Aug. 7, 2000, p. 7.
⁷ Bill Berkeley, "Aftermath: Genocide, the Pursuit of Justice and the Future of Africa," Washington Post Magazine, Oct. 11, 1998, p. 13.

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Roy Adams is an associate editor of the Adventist Review.