This story hits me in a funny way. It recounts the targeted death of an innocent man.
This is politics; there’s a certain grim cynicism which says, “This is expected; this is the world.”
Politically speaking, there’s nothing especially remarkable about the story. We’re used to it; it makes sense.
Zimbabwe is by no means the first (or the worst) case of political thuggery to mar our planet, although it is the one chosen for our headlines.
However, this is also wickedness; and as wickedness it is difficult to accept.
It’s intuitive that wickedness seeks out the righteous as a target, but it doesn’t stop there. The wicked don’t care about the innocent or the bystanders; they don’t even care about the wicked.
To be a target for evil, it only requires that you be in its path.
Wickedness isn’t a word I hear often; I can probably count the times I have heard someone accuse someone else of being wicked, “X is a wicked man.”
And yet, if it is such a great part of our world, why does it play such a small part in our thinking?
We’re not supposed to dwell on it; adopting a life that is reactive to evil rather than driven by God is a trap.
We have to call it what it is, however; we have to know where it comes from.