Words often lead double lives.
Take the word radical. In modern English, it usually means “extreme,” “crazy,” or “outside the bounds of normal.” But its origin is far more stable, even earthy. From the Latin radix: root, the word radical deals with what is fundamental, what lies beneath and anchors all else. The vegetable “radish” still bears the name.
What changed? How did a word that once meant “root” come to mean “outlandish”? The shift reveals more than linguistic drift; it speaks to the human heart.
Every person is, in the most ancient sense, radical. To be human is to have a root, a radix, that defines what is ultimate. This root is not a preference, nor even a priority that can be traded out for another. It is The Non-negotiable. Whatever holds the heart’s center governs everything else.
For one, the radix may be a spouse or a child. For another, it may be identity, a self-description so sacred that any threat is an act of war. Some live from the root of politics, sacrificing truth, friendship, or morality for the sake of the party and cause. Others live from wealth, fame, or power. The radix itself might be noble or dishonorable, healthy or corrosive. White Supremacy is corrosive. Charity is healthy.
Everybody has a radix. There is no such thing as a person who is not radic-al.
Christianity names its Root with precision. The radix of the Christian is the God of the Bible: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Hebrew and Greek Testaments alike assume this central truth: “The LORD is my portion,” “Christ in you, the hope of glory.”
Yet Christians know too well the pull of idols and false gods that compete for the place where only One belongs. Confession and absolution, Word and Sacrament, are not empty rituals but God’s chosen means of restoring Himself to the root of His people.
The heart is a battlefield of priorities, each laying claim to the nucleus, and only the living God belongs there. The central teaching of Scripture is that God the Father has placed himself at the center of your life by the gracious gift of Jesus the Son, with the enduring promise of the Holy Spirit as guarantee.
You don’t claim Him as your radix, He makes Himself so. You endeavor to live accordingly.
Here lies the reason radical-ism so often turns violent. We always act according to our radix.
When a person’s root is deeply threatened, the reaction is fierce. If the radix is Buddhism, the response may be marked by fierce nonviolence. The reaction is always the fruit of the root. If the radix is financial capital, the defense is waged through markets and economic leverage. Again the radix bears its own unique fruit. And if the radix is politics or national pride, and the threat is deemed critical, the defense often comes with blood.
When chaos, betrayal, or ruin strike to the root of a person’s being, the defense can become desperate. Political assassinations, terrorist attacks, even some wars can be understood as the frantic defense of a radix too fragile to stand on its own.
This is what makes the Christian root unique. God needs no defense. He has conquered the ultimate enemy: death itself. He fears no rival and bows to no threat. When God is at the root, violence becomes not only unnecessary but unfaithful. “You shall not murder” is not just a commandment, it is a description of a life with God at its core: there is no murder. Thus, to kill is to admit primary allegiance to another root.
History bears witness. The Crusades, so often invoked as Christian violence, were in truth an expression of the Church as radix, not God Himself. Institutions trembled, and men fought to defend them. But God Himself needs no armies. He is the root who cannot be uprooted.
That said, the human heart is capable of juggling many other priorities. While there will always be a radix, there will be all kinds of other things as lesser priorities, and these ought to also take their proper order. Augustine was right when he described disordered loves as the cause for human sin and unhappiness. But properly ordered loves, where your spouse and children, your career and nation, your neighbor and your enemy all occupy the proper order among the things which you must love, this kind of life will never raise up a person to violence.
The question is not whether you are radical. You are.
The question is: What is your radix?
A root that cannot defend itself will one day demand blood, either yours or its enemy’s. A root that is God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, stands secure forever, “The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer”. The blood has been provided on your behalf, the battle is over, Christ is Victor, your faith is secure. To be radical in this truest sense is to be rooted where all threats lose their terror.
The fruit of the only true Radix is a peace that surpasses human understanding.
