Healing that burns before it soothes

“I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already!…
Do you suppose that I am here to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you,
but rather division.”

This Sunday’s Gospel from Luke (12:49-53) doesn’t sound like the opening
to a sermon on healing. It’s a stark reminder that real peace—the kind that endures—is often born through disruption. The fire Jesus speaks of is a purifying one. Before wounds can close, infection must be cauterised.

That is exactly the crossroads where Trinidad and Tobago now stands. For more than a quarter century, crime has carved deep scars into our social fabric. In 2024, the murder toll alone was a record 620 citizens, and successive governments have found it necessary to call states of emergency. Every murder, robbery, or extortion note delivered to a small business is another incision in the skin of the nation.

And amid this, Police Commissioner Allister Guevarro has declared that “with the help of God, the police intend to bring peace and healing” to our country.

It is a commendable pledge—but it cannot be delivered with slogans or sentiment alone.

Healing in the face of entrenched violence means going after the rot at the centre. That includes the gangs holding communities hostage, the drug and gun trade feeding their power, and the white-collar networks in high places laundering their profits.

But it also means confronting the quieter cancers: corrupt officers, political protectors of criminal elements, and the culture of fear that keeps witnesses silent.

Commissioner Guevarro, in the proverbial hot seat since June 18, invoked divine guidance at last Sunday’s Worship, Word and Warfare prayer forum at the Queen’s Park Savannah in Port of Spain, hosted by the Trinidad and Tobago Police Service (TTPS), saying he feels Christ’s presence in this mission.

If that is true, he should know this: the Jesus of Luke 12 does not offer “peace” as a polite ceasefire with wrongdoing. He brings the kind of change that forces a choice—a division between those willing to face truth and those content to hide from it.

This country’s wounds will not close until we face that choice. We cannot keep pretending that the TTPS can deliver healing while some within its own ranks quietly undermine justice. We cannot keep accepting half-measures because tackling certain criminals would be too disruptive.

Healing here will not look like a quick press release about a slight drop in crime stats. It will look like communities regaining trust in officers because they see them act with fairness and courage. It will look like parents no longer having to choose between keeping their sons indoors or burying them before they reach 20. It will look like entire districts breaking their dependence on gang-controlled economies.

The Gospel fire burns away what corrupts life. That is the kind of fire we need—not indiscriminate destruction, but targeted cleansing.

The Commissioner says peace will come “with God’s help.” We agree; we trust in God. Let’s remember though that in Scripture, God’s help often comes through uncomfortable, uncompromising truth-telling and the courage to root out what festers in the dark.

If the TTPS, and by extension the 100-day-old government, is ready for that kind of healing, the country should back them fully. But we should also hold them accountable to it. Because healing that refuses to cut out the rot is not healing at all—it’s decay disguised as peace.