Bullets Through Stained Glass: The Annunciation, Rebellion, and Our Response

READ IN CATHOLIC EXCHANGE

You have heard of the three R’s of education. But deeper and more decisive stand the three R’s that define human existence: Revelation, which each of us either Receive or Rebel against. This is the drama written into every life, regardless of age, persuasion, or circumstance. It unfolds in the choices we make and will echo in eternity.

The Annunciation is the great icon of this drama. Gabriel stood before Mary, disclosing God’s plan. She could Receive it or Rebel. Her yes was not sentimental; it meant scandal, exile, and a sword through her heart. Yet she received. And because she did, the Word became flesh.

That same choice confronts us daily. Revelation is always announced. And every time, we either Receive or Rebel.

Annunciation Desecrated

That is what makes the tragedy in Minneapolis so piercing. It happened at Annunciation Catholic Church—the very name recalling that decisive moment in Nazareth. But this time Revelation was not received; it was desecrated.

Robert Westman—who wanted to be called Robin (a demand I will not dignify, for it epitomizes complicity with rebellion)—once walked those parish halls as a boy. He returned not as a son of the Church but as an assailant, firing bullets through stained glass into a children’s Mass, killing two and injuring seventeen (FBI Minneapolis Field Office, 2025).

In journals he wrote, “I am not well. I am not right… I am severely depressed and have been suicidal for years.” His mother demanded affirmation of falsehood. In videos, he filmed himself at a shooting range with the crucified Christ taped to his target, his weapons marked with hatred (FBI Minneapolis Field Office, 2025).

Nothing was subliminal. Nothing hidden. He did not simply strike children; he struck at Christ, at Revelation itself.

But here is the question: do we only tremble at the gunfire? Or do we recognize our own quieter rebellions—no less deadly to souls?

The Witness of Nature

Genesis tells us: “So God created man in his image; in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Gen 1:27). Here Revelation and nature converge.

To receive Revelation is to reverence this nature. To rebel is to deny it. Our very language testifies. Gender. Genitalia. Genesis. All rooted in gen—to generate. Our bodies are not accidents; they are designed for union. Same-sex bodies do not fit together. Twenty-three chromosomes from same-sex couples will never accomplish their intended purpose. Going against this undeniable, “follow the science” nature is, by definition, unnatural. Rebellion.

And the consequences ripple throughout all society.

My father, then director of the Ohio Department of Health, once brought home a dossier thick with state expenditures, most tied to sexuality’s fallout. The myth of “private choice” collapsed under cascading burdens: out-of-wedlock pregnancies, disease, broken families, generational poverty. Children raised outside stable marriage, studies show, face higher risks of poverty, academic failure, and incarceration (McLanahan & Sandefur, 1994).

The Fragility of Youth

Children are not fixed points; they are impressionable. Every parent knows the storm of adolescence. Culture exploits it. Studies show teens steeped in sexualized media are far more likely to engage in early sexual activity (Chandra et al., 2008; Brown & L’Engle, 2009). Forty-one percent of transgender-identified individuals attempt suicide (Grant et al., 2011). Even in “affirming” settings, the rates tower over peers (CDC, 2024). Those who undergo sex reassignment surgery see suicide rates 19 times higher than the general population (Dhejne et al., 2011). Adults in same-sex relationships face higher depression, substance abuse, and domestic violence (Sullins, 2015). Some claim affirming confusion is compassionate, but data reveal persistent harm—higher suicide risks and fractured lives—while true compassion heals through truth, guiding souls to their God-given nature.

Of course, this confusion springs from concupiscence, the disordered desires that mark every human soul. Yours may differ from mine, but all of us bear them: impulses that pull us from God’s design, demanding self-mastery through grace. For some, like Robert, these desires became epic storms, twisting him into a tragedy that shocks. But can we look deeper? Can we see beyond the monster the Enemy crafted—with complicity from a culture that affirms disorder rather than healing it?

This is not compassion. It is complicity. And yet how many of us hand over smartphones without filters, send children to schools saturated with ideology, or simply shrug, “they’ll figure it out”?
That is Rebellion.

We lament when Westman taped Christ to a target. But how often do we tape over Genesis 1:27 in our own lives—scrolling endlessly through trivialized sex, shrugging at cohabitation, laughing at fornication, silent at adultery, indifferent to contraception? Each compromise, no matter how small, is still a step away. It is Rebellion.

Westman’s journals cried, “I am not well.” Do we not hear the same cry from a whole generation—and remain passive? To ignore their fragility, to hand them confusion, is not love. It is Rebellion.

The Power of Names

Names matter. Abram became Abraham. Jacob became Israel. Simon became Peter. In baptism, we are sealed with a name—a Revelation of Whose we are.

To demand a false name is not authenticity. Westman’s insistence on being called Robin was not identity but confusion, sanctified by a culture that treats disorder as destiny rather than a wound in need of healing. To concede names to delusion is not compassion. It is rebellion.

Every false name reveals the deeper battle: the Enemy whispering that we are not who God says we are. To Receive Revelation is to reclaim our true names in Christ. To Rebel is to erase them.

The Church’s Complicity

We recoil at Westman’s rebellion, but excuse our own. We shut down sacraments in the name of safety while souls starved. We warned about physical contagion but were silent about mortal sin. We defend the unborn but contracept in our own homes, or remain silent when loved ones do the same. We march for religious liberty but refuse to tithe. We sing hymns on Sunday but gossip on Monday. We want to be liked more than we want to be holy.

This is not compassion. It is cowardice. It is complicity. It is Rebellion.

At Nazareth, Mary said yes, though it cost her everything. At Minneapolis, Westman said no, and it cost lives. But the real stage is not ancient Nazareth or a Minnesota parish. It is our living rooms. Our pews. Our consciences.

Every day, God announces again: through Scripture, sacraments, conscience, even the cry of a wounded culture. Revelation is always before us. And every day, we either Receive or Rebel.

Reception or Rebellion

Christ came not to affirm our confusion but to heal it. He entered the world to rescue us from the rebellion that masquerades as freedom. True freedom is not the indulgence of every appetite, but the mastery of desire in love.

And here lies the crescendo. To Receive is not merely to nod politely at doctrine, or even to attend Mass out of duty. It is to open our bodies and souls to the very Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, to become God-bearers, like Mary. To hold Him is not enough. To consume Him is not enough. We are meant to be consumed by Him. To be healed, transformed, and sent to heal and transform the world. Anything less—even in the name of religion—is a worse kind of refusal. A deeper betrayal. A subtler form of Rebellion.

To Receive—truly, fully, sacramentally—is to become what we consume, Christ alive in the world. That is the only answer to the rebellion that scars our culture and stalks our parishes. Love and truth converge, our disordered desires transformed into divine yearning, drawing us to the Wedding Feast where our nature is consummated in Him.

The angel still stands. The Word still seeks flesh. Creation still holds its breath.

Whether Our Blessed Mother in Nazareth, or Robert in Minneapolis—in each and every moment of our lives, with every challenge, difficulty or strugle—Jesus Christ is in it. And the question has not changed.

Will we Receive—or will we Rebel?

------------------

Greg Schlueter is an author, speaker, and movement leader passionate about restoring faith, family, and culture. In addition to directing communication and marketing for the Institute of American Constitutional Thought and Leadership, he leads Image Trinity, a dynamic marriage and family movement. He and his wife, Stephanie, co-host IGNITE Radio Live and produce the popular daily Gospel reflection at LiveITToday.us. His recent books include The Magnificent Piglets of Pigletsville, Twelve Roses, Ride Of A Lifetime (LifeTimeRide.com), and Slaying Giants (SlayingGiants.us). His personal blog is GregorianRant.us.

---

Ride of a Lifetime is a breathtakingly illustrated storybook that invites readers of all ages to rediscover the wonder, ache, and beauty of life—through the timeless metaphor of an amusement park.