Back before I worked weekends at the hospital, I would occasionally fill the pulpit at friends’ churches, and I’ll never forget a conversation I had one Sunday before worship. It was just after one of America’s frequent mass shootings, and as I was standing at the door and greeting people entering the sanctuary, one man shook my hand and continued to grip it tightly. A concerned furrow creased his face as his thick graying mustache retreated into his pursed lips. Puffy eyebrows counseled together nervously atop his glasses, and his charcoal eyes flickered slightly as he spoke:

“Pastor, I need to make sure you’ll do something for us this morning. The other day, I was at another church, and the preacher there told all of us, ‘You never have to worry about a shooting happening here! My gun’s right here in its holster every Sunday, so the minute a shooter comes through that door, I’m ready for him!’ Pastor, we all felt so much safer, and I just want to make sure you’d do that for us here too.”

I was dumbfounded, but after a few seconds, I snapped back to reality with a firm, “No. First of all, I don’t carry, and even if I did, think about the timing required for something like that. Even if I kept my gun loaded, I’d still need to unholster it, turn off the safety, and line up a perfect shot— probably a headshot since so many of these shooters wear tactical armor nowadays. Plus, as I’m sure people in the congregation would be running and ducking, I’d need laser focus to see just the shooter and not accidentally hit one of you. And then, as if all that weren’t enough, remember that I’m up at the pulpit, which makes me the first and most obvious target for a shooter entering the room, so armed or not, I’ll probably be on the ground injured or dead before we even realize what’s happening. So no, I’m not armed. I value your safety too much to add one more shooter to the mix, and besides, I’ll probably be dead before you anyway, so it’s not like I’d do much good.” The concerned man was highly offended, and his mustache and eyebrows visibly fumed for the rest of the service. I was never invited to speak there again, but years later, I stand by my conviction: adding more guns doesn’t make things better.

Because I was just starting middle school when the Columbine shooting took place, I’m part of the last generation of elementary school students who didn’t worry about being shot. From sixth grade on, however, I’ve been surrounded by debates about gun safety. I’ve had plenty of time to research, reconsider, and refine my position over the years, and I’ve had to regularly consider what would happen if an armed assailant entered my classroom, sanctuary, or hospital. As such, I think the “good guy with a gun” myth (the idea that the only thing that can stop an armed crime is an armed intervener) may be one of the most destructive forces in our culture. Not only does this argument reject the classic truth that “violence begets violence,” it overlooks just how difficult it is to stop a shooting in progress. “Good guys with guns” are just as likely to hit bystanders.

I don’t know what will stop the epidemic of mass shootings in America, but I can guarantee asking our teachers and pastors and other bystanders to add “vigilante” to their job descriptions will only make things worse. Personally, I look forward to the time when our swords are beaten into plowshares, but until then, we need a better solution than making more swords.

I choose to stay unarmed.
For my safety.
For your safety.
For the general public good.
I’m not saying you have to make the same choice, but realistically, do you honestly think one more gun in the mix is going to save anyone?