What Happens When Radicals Fall in Love?

Being a radical has never presented much of a challenge for me. Even as a little kid, I asked hard questions. Took no prisoners. Questioned authority.

A radical stance always came natural. Very young, I developed an addiction to anger. I raged for every righteous cause.

I still do. Fury and righteous indignation are so easy. Just look around. There’s injustice everywhere.

Yet something has changed along the way. The rage still courses in my veins, but there’s something else at work, too: The power of love, creeping up on me when I least expect it.

It could be that I’m just getting old. Maybe I don’t have the energy to sustain all of this upset and moral outrage anymore. Maybe.

What seems more likely is that love is catching up with me. I’m seeing the human cost of my prophetic edge. I’m developing a preference for relationship over being right, for genuine questions over cocky answers.

My right to rage ends where your innate dignity as a human person begins.

Is this what happens when radicals fall in love?

Here’s my question: Is it possible to be a radical without raging against the machine? How do you take a hammer to the edifice of injustice while dwelling in love and compassion? Is it possible to see the system for what it is – human beings and all our false motives – without becoming bitter and cynical?

What happens when radicals fall in love with our enemies?

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