Today we finally caught up with Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. A long time ago I watched the video of the beheading of Nick Berg--brutal stuff, made me sick. Al-Zarqawi wielded the knife. Now we can watch the video of the house where he died being blown up.

I'm not sorry to see him dead. By no means. But lately I've been reading some stuff by authors who also happen to be in the non-violence camp, and there's so much that they say that is resonating with me, a moderate-to-hard-liner. I'm still not sorry to see Al-Zarqawi dead. But I'm no longer able to rejoice in it, to feel gleeful. I don't know what's happening to me, but curiously, I feel good about my feelings. As if I'm catching a little bit of how Jesus might feel.