The deaths of Ashli Babbitt and Renee Nicole Good are now frequently placed side by side. Some push back, insisting the events were fundamentally different — and they were. Different locations. Different agencies. Different contexts.
But that’s not the comparison most people are making.
Both are tragedies: two lives ended, two families shattered, two moments that weigh heavily on a nation already frayed. In their own ways, both deaths might have been prevented — not through slogans or swift statements, but through something simpler yet harder: restraint.
We live in a culture addicted to speed. Images flood in, fragments of fact emerge, narratives solidify — often before the full picture can form. Even when our initial take feels right, wisdom demands a pause. Discernment doesn’t mean abandoning conviction; it means refusing to let certainty sprint ahead of truth.
That’s the real point of the comparison.
People aren’t debating weapons or legal fine print. They’re reacting to the speed at which conclusions are declared final: who gets the benefit of the doubt, who gets condemned outright, and how quickly outrage is weaponized. In both cases, emotion overtook evidence, and once that happens, stepping back feels impossible.
I return often to Proverbs 18:17 — not for novelty, but because it exposes a timeless flaw: “The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him.” We mistake velocity for validity.
National scandals once arrived every few years. Now they seem to hit every other day — hyperbole, yes, but telling. We’ve normalized perpetual crisis: outrage on tap, reflection dismissed as hesitation, discernment mistaken for weakness.
Slowing down won’t reverse what’s done or bring anyone back. But it might break the cycle — prevent the next tragedy from following the same script of rushed narratives, deeper divisions, diminished understanding, and more loss.
In these times, the most radical act isn’t shouting louder or faster. It’s choosing to breathe, think, and pursue truth before picking a side. It may not feed the moment’s frenzy, but it could keep us from reliving it.
I’m Wayne – and that’s my world view. What’s yours?
