Exactly why Jesus begins his exposition and application of God’s law with a focus on the sixth commandment is not clear. Most probably it has to do with the fact that most people consider themselves to meet its requirements. We typically hear it and think we have obeyed. Never have I pointed a gun at someone and pulled the trigger. Never have I pushed someone in front of a car or high from a ledge. Never have I added poison to a glass or taken the drugs that are needed to kill an unborn child.

It is very easy to hear the sixth commandment (you shall not murder) and empty it of all its force—to limit the command to the deed only and point the finger at others. There in the prison, that is where the murderers can be found. Not in my home, not in my community; I have never shed blood. Such is the thinking in our day, such was the thinking in Jesus’ day—but he will not have it. He will not let us build a hedge around the command that allows us to keep hold of our pride. No, he shows us that it goes deeper. Not just the action itself, but also the desire.

The hatred that leads to murder. The anger that leads to hatred. When I so much as desire to hurt someone, to see their name and reputation tarnished, to treat them as if they were dead to me and unworthy of my time—there is the seed that germinates into deed.

Mentioning anger, we must not make the mistake of thinking that all anger is equivalent to murder, or that we can never point out a foolish action. We know from elsewhere in Scripture that there is something like a righteous anger. Think of Saul in 1 Samuel 11:1–15. When he heard about Nahash the Ammonite and his plans to kill the men and women of Jabesh, the Spirit of God came upon him, and he burned with anger. Similarly, we have Jesus in the temple when he clears out the money-changers from the court of the Gentiles. We are not specifically told that he was angry, but it is the implication of the passage. Think also of what we learn about the Lord himself. He is slow to anger, implying that there is a time where anger is perfectly appropriate. Anger itself is not always sinful and wrong, certainly not when it concerns the welfare of God’s people or the truth of the gospel.

The problem, however, is that we naturally think that our anger is generally righteous, proportionate, and justifiable, when that is rarely the case. We are typically slow to anger when we see wrongs being done to others and quick when we think a wrong has been done to us. If someone dared to stand in the way of our plans. If our child does not respond to our words as we want them to. If our spouse does something we do not like, or we feel disrespected in some way. It does not take much for anger to flare up in our hearts. We might hide it, but it is there, and if left to fester, it can consume our thoughts. Of course, when we slight someone else or treat others with disrespect, we expect them to get over it quite quickly. Our sins are but small mistakes, the sins of others and big and egregious.

Knowing our natures, knowing that our anger is typically focused on protecting our honour and our name, Jesus is telling us that this is the kind of anger that leads to murder. Or rather, this is the anger that makes us guilty of murder. When we want to hurt someone, when we want to get back at someone, when we want to ruin a reputation and name. Sure, there might not be any blood spilled, but in that moment, we treat them as less than the image of God. The only difference between us and those who are now in prison is the fact that God has graciously kept us from further action. If our circumstances were different, then we would have done the same. The seed of murder lies in the heart of every sinner, the heart of you and me.