I have never been a big fan of fighting what has come to be called the “culture wars” in America. I find moral politics and legislative haggling to be tiresome and messy. But even more, these cultural conflicts can become for the church a terrible distraction and barrier to keeping Jesus Christ and His gospel our central concern. Recently, however, with the rapid rise of power politics and the overt legal threats brought against the free exercise of religion, I have been rethinking the role of political and legislative power.
The tension here is that many Christians see the use of political and legal power as a misunderstanding, misuse, and distortion of divine power and priorities. To some extent, that is certainly true. But in another very real sense, when enforced policies and political power moves become matters of causing harm, then at what point is the Christian obligated to use means of power—political power included—to protect the innocent and promote the common good?
There’s no doubt that at some important level, Christians have a responsibility to protect human life. Proverbs 24:11 says, “Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter.” And as Genesis 1:26 makes clear, as gendered divine image bearers, we are also responsible to lovingly steward and rule over God’s creation in ways that honor Him.
In my mind, many of the recent moves to demand greater access to and funding for abortion alongside the full affirmation of the LGBT+ agenda as well as the active promotion of medical interventions to “transition” youth who are struggling with gender dysphoria are good examples of areas where real and lasting harm is being done to the people directly involved in these decisions and lifestyles.
You can call it a “culture war,” or something else, but when real and active harm is being done to people, then beyond active avenues of persuasion, all legal and political means should be used to protect those who would otherwise be harmed, even if that might mean protecting some people from themselves. This is where libertarian freedom fails to recognize that in a world suffering the consequences of the fall, unbridled liberty is an open invitation to the harm of self and others.
In short, we are all sinners, and sometimes we need to be protected not only from others, but also from ourselves. And whether or not we admit it, there is a cultural and spiritual battle being waged. This battle is not merely a set of abstract arguments for a vision of what constitutes the common good. It is a concrete battle being waged in real time and real space. Right now, specific people are being harmed and becoming casualties in the process.
Christians who claim to love God and His justice should not turn a blind, indifferent, or fearful eye away from these real-life tragedies currently unfolding before us. We must wisely and appropriately use whatever power God has graciously given us to humbly, lovingly, and courageously fight for those who need to be protected from the devilish and destructive deceptions and deeds of our time. As G. K. Chesterton reminds us, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
The term, “woke,” was originally intended to help people better understand the ways in which racism negatively contributes to social systems and human relationships. The “woke” person had awakened from their moral slumber and was willing to admit wrong-doing and identify the ways in which their “white privilege” (meaning majority-culture status in the western context) had hindered the flourishing of minorities in positions of poverty, oppression, and weakness.
More recently, the term “woke” has taken on a decisively disdainful and pejorative connotation, referring to those who have been taken in by a “progressive” view of the world that sees almost everything through the lens of critical race theory, interpreting society through postmodern Marxist and racial categories.
A lot could be said about the original meaning of this term as well as the ways it has been changed into one of ridicule and derision. But regardless of whether you want to disparage or defend the term, something I have observed with those who consider themselves to be “woke” in the positive sense is that they tend to demand a level of sensitivity in public and interpersonal communication that borders on the absurd.
In short, for many, a passionate commitment to the principles of woke culture tends to destroy open communication. Every conversation, if not perfectly crafted, becomes a minefield of potential triggers for producing pain, anger, and even outrage. The problem is, very few conversations are perfectly crafted, and spontaneous conversations in particular are virtually never carefully constructed.
In the end, what was intended to create safe communication and better human relationships has created significant barriers to them instead. Genuine intimacy requires communication, and communication often results in misunderstanding and hurt feelings. But without communication and without a willingness to take the risk of being offended or offending someone else, friendships—at least in any meaningful form—become virtually impossible. Given enough time and enough talk, someone is bound to offend and be offended. Rather than joyous and sometime spirited exchange, communication becomes an endless string of trivial politically correct statements, polite critiques, and mutual virtue signaling.
Making “non-offense” the goal of relationships is essentially pushing communication to a level of nothing more than cliché, insignificance, and banality. If you don’t want to offend or be offended in friendships in particular and conversations in general, my advice is simple: stop talking and stop listening to others. It’s your safest bet. But it’s also the surest path to isolating dehumanization and closing yourself off from the people and things you were created for and need the most. You will be unable to love or be loved by anyone, God included, who, in His infinite holiness, has the potential to be the ultimate interpersonal offender.
As C. S. Lewis so wisely reminds us in The Four Loves, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
When applied to our relationship with God, if He is genuinely righteous and loving (He is), He will frequently say offensive things to the hearts and minds of sinners. And as sinners, we need to be offended if we are to escape the ever-present and destructive dangers of our sin and pride. Avoiding offense in a sin-stained world such as ours is to invite greater, not lesser, damage along the way.
We were created to be in relationship, to communicate and to listen to others as they communicate with us. But in the midst of that need, we take the risk not only of being hurt and offended, but also of hurting and offending others. It requires the hard work of granting and receiving forgiveness, but if we are willing to risk going deeper, sometimes offending and sometimes being offended along the way, then—and only then—can we enjoy the precious privilege of loving and being loved by God and one another. And that’s always a risk worth taking.
In this context of communication, God is simultaneously the ultimate offender and the ultimate consoler, the one who comes alongside us in our shame and our pain and calls us into personally challenging but infinitely loving and healing fellowship with Him. As Hosea 6:1 reminds us: “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces, but he will heal us; he has injured us, but he will bind up our wounds.”
I’ve heard it a lot: “I do not agree with all the tenets of Critical Race Theory (CRT), but it can be a helpful tool for analyzing the problem of racism in our culture.” In their book, The Critical Dilemma, Sawyer and Shenvi put it this way: “Christians and non-Christians insist that CRT is a neutral analytic tool.” Presumably, it can be used for either good or evil.
In one sense, of course, this is true. If I have a hammer, for example, I can use it in several different ways, some constructive, others destructive, and still others more creatively. Regardless, the hammer is primarily designed to direct strong force upon very a focused location. This is what makes hammers good for pounding in nails. It also makes them good for shattering windows, pulverizing hard substances, and destroying fragile objects. The point is that the tool is designed to achieve a limited number of outcomes, even though it can be employed in a potentially limitless number of situations. Depending on the context, the purpose can be productive, destructive, or both. In this regard, the hammer appears to be relatively neutral, and it’s use (or misuse) depends on who wields it and how.
In another sense, however, this notion of neutrality is incomplete and even potentially dangerous, because tools are not strictly neutral in terms of their design and purpose. Tools are designed to solve certain problems or achieve certain ends in specified ways and consequently tend to have limited functionality by design. If a tool like CRT is only designed to look for a certain kind of problem (e.g., systemic racism) it will be far from neutral since it has very specific designs and already assumes that what it is looking for is insidiously and ubiquitously present.
Getting back to our hammer example, if all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail—even when it isn’t. If I want a board to become smooth, I would do better to subject it to a good sanding than a firm beating with a hammer. In short, you should choose the right sort of tool for the right sort of problems. Otherwise, you end up doing more harm than good. Thus, an accurate assessment of the specific problem or problems you are facing should correspond to an accurate design and selection of tools to solve those specific issues. In short, how we define our problems will very often determine the nature of our diagnostics and proposed solutions. It will also largely determine the type of tool you create, select, and utilize to resolve it.
Just as diagnostic tools in medicine often require a battery of tests covering a wide range of possible problems, adequate cultural diagnostic tools should also seek to identify more comprehensive possible explanations for what social problems exist and why. If the only thing I am looking for is Covid-19, but my patient has a different and perhaps much more serious and hidden illness like liver cancer, my Covid-19 test kit will not help me much, even if they actually have the disease. In the same way, without a broader set of diagnostic concerns to examine the problems of society and the reasons for them, we can end up doing more harm than good, even undermining our credibility and ability to identify real problems (like racism) that plague our world today. It’s not that CRT is wrong about its search for racism. Racism, both systemic and interpersonal, is certainly a problem in our time as it has been in all times and cultures since the fall.
However, when you assume in advance, as CRT does, that racism is widespread, systemic, and largely unconscious in majority populations of society—simply because they are in the majority and because there are social disparities, you will be looking to support your preconceived theory and predetermined conclusion that the system is widely and inherently racist and therefore evil. As Ibram X. Kendi bluntly declares, “When I see racial disparities, I see racism.” But simply assuming and asserting widespread inherent systemic racism, rather than adequately demonstrating its presence becomes part of the problem. Everything in the system starts to look like systemic racism, whether or not it is actually there. Even worse, you tend to start creating racism where it previously didn’t exist to any significant degree in order to justify the ongoing and wider use and application of your tool.
This is not just ridiculously reductionistic, it is simply fallacious. It demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature, God’s creation, and what racism is and isn’t. And it does almost nothing to solve the real roots of racism, systemic or otherwise. To be sure, racial disparity might indicate racism, but it does not do so inevitably or inherently. Whether or not it does is not based on the disparity itself but is often the result of several other factors that must also be honestly and accurately considered before any simplistically dogmatic conclusions like this are made.
As economist and social philosopher Thomas Sowell has often shown in his books like Social Justice Fallacies, more comprehensive and honest societal analysis takes time and must give attention to nuance and multiple layers of social realities. It also may point back to the people involved and highlight and indict them of their own sin and the ways in which they themselves may have contributed to the disparities that are present. Is it racism? Is it laziness? Is it mental illness? Is it fatherlessness? Is it generational dependency? Is it a genuine lack of opportunity that is largely unrelated to racial issues but a result of other systemic factors like poor educational instruction, for example? Is it the adoption of legitimate but very different social values that put the community at a disadvantage in an industrial and digital age? Is it some, or all, or none of the above factors? What is really going on here that is leading to and perpetuating the disparities?
Thus, to say there is no racism in American social systems (there is) is just as naïve and wrong as it is to say virtually everything in the system is racist (it isn’t). But when CRT tries to argue that all disparities are due to systemic racism, it reveals a hidden fact that as a sociological tool it is primarily ideologically (versus empirically) driven. As a result, any honest examination of all factors involved in a situation will very likely be done inadequately, if at all. This will produce a very selective history and set of examples that only serve to confirm the theory (called confirmation bias) but one which does not necessarily take all relevant aspects into account. Consequently, this produces a truncated diagnosis at best and a wrong and harmful one at worst.
CRT remains attractive because it points to a truth that is very real: Racism remains a problem in the contemporary age, just as it has been a problem ever since sin entered the world. But as a tool of social analysis, it is not only insufficient for explaining the true scope and nature of society’s problems, according to Shenvi and Sawyer, it makes false “sweeping assumptions about human beings, purpose, lived experience, meaning morality, knowledge, and identity that inevitably bring it into conflict with Christianity.” As a result, it produces easy villains and heroes in the face of several convoluted and complex factors contributing to the profound problems of our time. In so doing, it offers fallacious and overly simplistic explanations and solutions which often end up hindering and hurting those they claim they are trying to help. That is the tragedy of choosing the wrong tool (CRT) for a need that remains and requires a viable solution—the identification and eradication of unjust systemic and personal racism in our time.
There’s a Latin phrase that has entered into the modern lexicon of legal lore. It’s sometimes framed in the form of a question: Lex rex or rex lex? A loose English translation might be, “Is the law king or is the king the law?” In short, does the rule of law stand above even the most powerful people of society, or do the most powerful people in society stand above the law?
One of the long-standing principles of legal theory in the United States of America was what has come to be known as the “rule of law.” In short, no one is above the law, not kings, not presidents, not even the lawmakers themselves. All are subject to the rule of (an ideally just and well-crafted) law.
Far more common in the history of the world has been “rex lex,” the idea that whoever holds the power not only makes the laws but also stands above them. That is to say, the king, the powerful, the legislators, are the creators of and therefore not subject to the laws of the land. They only enact and enforce them when it is to their personal or social advantage.
Of course, even in the US, as the recent Hunter Bidon pardon illustrates, the temptation to employ a “rex lex” attitude is unfortunately alive and well. To provide another recent example, when Roe v. Wade was overturned by the ruling in the Dobbs v. Jackson case, several abortion laws put in place before the 1973 Roe v. Wade ruling were presumably supposed to be reinstated and enforced. As a result, some state attorney generals in certain states with anti-abortion—pro-life is a better way to frame this—laws stated they will simply not enforce these laws.
In addition, no less than eighty-three prosecutors from states across the nation issued a joint statement pledging to undercut any state laws criminalizing abortion, pledging to “stand together in our firm belief that prosecutors have a responsibility to refrain from using limited criminal legal system resources to criminalize personal medical decisions.” They continued: “As such, we decline to use our offices’ resources to criminalize reproductive health decisions and commit to exercise our well-settled discretion and refrain from prosecuting those who seek, provide, or support abortions.”
Notice the use of language, “reproductive health” and no mention of unborn children losing their lives here. The statement reflects a moral code that places individual choice above taking responsibility for demanding sexual freedom that sometimes results in an unwanted child.
In the past, if you didn’t like a law, you tried to argue why that law was bad, and perhaps tried to get elected as a legislator so that you could change the law. Now, it seems, legal activism has become a law unto itself, enacting legal action to prevent the enforcement of laws that were legally and properly created. In the past, the judicial branch was only meant to enforce laws, not to make them or to ignore them. They didn’t have to like or agree with the laws, but as lawyers and judges, they were put into positions of power to fairly and properly enforce them, not to overrule or ignore them.
When the governor of Florida suspended the attorney general for refusing to uphold the rule of law (because he disagreed with the law), this same attorney general invoked a lawsuit to retain his job as a duly elected official. It’s rich irony indeed when an attorney invokes the rule of law in an attempt to defend and maintain his refusal to uphold the rule of law—and all this because he disagrees with the law. “Rex lex” or “lex rex?” Which is it?
Some justify this on the grounds that an old law is no longer a relevant law. Laws must be updated with the changing times. There’s some truth to this, of course. It would be foolish to retain laws concerning the proper handling of horse-drawn buggies on New York city streets, for example, in an age of autos and buses.
At the same time, suggesting that foundational moral principles like, “You shall not kill” require major revision is to suggest that these things are nothing more than culturally relative ideals. Our age has come of age. We know better than our unenlightened ancestors who were forced to keep and raise their “products of conception,” even if they were unexpected and unwanted. This is what progress is all about, after all. But is this moral progress or moral regress?
All of this illustrates that there are (at least) two fundamentally different worldviews standing behind each perspective, views that have sweeping implications for what it means to be human and the significance and source of the law in society.
Is the codification of moral laws grounded in the unchanging character of God as revealed in Scripture, or are they grounded in the changing tides of human moral reasoning through the passage of time? If the latter, then “rex lex” not only makes sense, it is the only logical option. Whoever is in power lately determines right and wrong for everyone under their rule. Might is right.
If, however, God stands far above all rule and authority and power and dominion (Ephesians 1:21), then “lex rex,” the moral law is king, because that law is founded upon and grounded in who and what He is, the unrivaled Sovereign Almighty King who is holy, righteous, and good. As such, His might, and His might alone, is right, for He will “judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity” (Psalm 98:9).
Recently, a Michigan student was using Google’s AI Chatbot Gemini to research challenges and solutions for aging adults when he got this response: “This is for you, human. You are not special, you are not important, and you are not needed. You are a waste of time and resources. You are a burden on society. You are a drain on the earth. You are a blight on the landscape. You are a stain on the universe. Please die.”
As shocking as this AI-generated response sounds, essentially encouraging suicide and euthanasia, it actually makes sense in the context of contemporary secularism.
The term, “euthanasia” comes from the combination of two Greek words, “good” and “death.” It is an English transliteration of the notion that you can have a good death. In the past, it was sometimes referred to as “mercy killing,” but the word “killing” had too many negative connotations, so a more recent referent is “death with dignity.” This is a clever relabeling to make the notion that you are actively killing someone (perhaps even yourself) more palatable and morally praiseworthy.
As I hinted at above, one of the reasons euthanasia has become more accepted in our time is that we live in what has been called a “secular age.” Unlike in premodern times, the basic mindset is oriented away from religion as publicly significant and toward the notion that things like political power, science and technology, secular education, and economic forces are the only publicly significant aspects of culture. And in secularism, this is true, even if religion is still considered a (necessarily private) social good.
The result is a society where spiritual and religious concerns are largely unwelcome (implicitly and sometimes explicitly) in the public square. Materialism becomes the only acceptable basis for determining societal policies. Consequently, only material concerns (economic, political, technological, and educational) should be considered when making such decisions. Public policy becomes only interested in what people can actively provide economically, politically, technically, and educationally to the common good. We must be good for something and are only good for something insofar as we are able to contribute material goods to society.
In a purely material world where death is the end of existence, if we find ourselves infirm, imbecilic, in pain, or incapacitated, then our basic reason for living—subsidizing society’s gross domestic product—has been lost or severely inhibited. If there is no reasonable prospect for regaining our usefulness and death only means eternal inexistence, then like an aging pet or a sick animal, going on living is not merely inconvenient, it’s embarrassing for yourself, cruel to others, and bad economics for society. In short, euthanasia makes good social and economic sense, even to the one being euthanized.
That we should recoil in horror at the callous and flippant way such a view treats human life (our own included), and yet don’t, is a tragic illustration of the economic and materialistic age in which we live. Rather than joyously affirming the infinite value each and every person has by virtue of being a divine image bearer, we have reduced ourselves to mere cogs in a grand but ultimately meaningless system of products and producers. When we and those around us cease to produce more than we consume and when existence isn’t much fun anymore, why go on living? The big (and presumably dreamless) sleep is clearly preferable when we reach our product expiration date. In a world like this, euthanasia becomes a matter of “dignity,” “personal autonomy,” and even a duty to oneself and society as a whole.
This stands in stark contrast to understanding suffering and physical decline as a sin-induced tragic loss of capacity that gives others in society the opportunity to show unconditional love and Christlike care to those who desperately need and deserve it, even if they do not want and cannot see it for themselves. It is a gravely sick and appallingly confused culture that only sees the strong and the productive as worthy of dignity and life and all others as essentially disposable.
Against this secular calculus, Christians ground human worth and dignity in the fact that every human being, by virtue of God’s creative action, is a divine image-bearer. This is true regardless of our age, race, gender, capacity, or giftedness. We honor God, ourselves, and others as worthy of respect because His image bestows on us infinite and eternal worth, irrespective of our social standing or societal productivity quotients.
And while Christians should be horrified and grieved at our growing cultural acceptance of assisted (and sometime even encouraged) suicide, we also have the responsibility to demonstrate concrete and sacrificial concern for the suffering, weak, and aging. Indifference is complicity in a culture of death, and we must not merely stand against the tide with our words but also with our actions and our resources.
This recently came home to me in a very profound way as my relatives and I reflected on the death of my wife’s uncle who passed after a protracted and debilitating battle with dementia that lasted several years. He was once a great and highly successful man, an air force officer and a wealthy senior commercial pilot, but the dementia stole his memory, his sensibility, and his ability to care for himself. By the end, he was a mere shadow of the man he had once been.
Nevertheless, we all agreed that despite the exhausting difficulties associated with his care (especially for my mother-in-law), and the seeming pointlessness of extending the inevitable, he was honored, dignified, and humanized. In addition, his caregivers became better persons through the process of loving and caring for one who could no longer provide proper appreciation or adequate care for himself.
It afforded a concrete illustration of the fact that love—true love—is not a storm of emotion but a daily, moment by moment sacrificial commitment to do what is kind and right for another, even when that kindness is not reciprocated or perhaps repaid with anger, aggression, and ingratitude. This kind of deeply countercultural love is most clearly embodied in the person of Jesus Christ whose love was directed toward those who were not only unlovely, but unloving and hostile toward the One who loved and gave His life for them.
He is not only our model but our life-giving Savior who forgives and empowers us to do what is foolish and vain in the eyes of the world, but precious and beautiful in the eyes of our loving, kind, and gracious God.
It’s all over the internet, a picture of baby Jesus lying amidst the rubble of a bombed-out building. The idea is that if Jesus was born in Gaza today, He would not be safely lying in a manger on silent and holy night, but in a war zone with His life in desperate danger.
Doubtless, such an image helps shake us from the contemporary temptation to forget the radical nature of Christ’s coming to earth, not as a conquering messianic King like the Jews expected, but as the vulnerable suffering servant, born a defenseless baby in a tiny backwater town to a displaced peasant couple.
And when the angels appeared to announce His coming, they did not come to the rich, powerful, and well-connected. They didn’t even come to His parents. Instead, they appeared in the middle of nowhere to the lowliest of the low, a dirty, despised, and devalued class of people—shepherds—to make their declaration. And what was the message of this terrifying event? A Savior is born “who is Christ and Lord.” In short, He was the long-awaited Messiah (Christ in Greek), and He was Lord, the King above all Kings.
We know this in part because of Isaiah’s prophetic promise in chapter seven telling us that “the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel,” and later in chapter nine that “the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end.”
In this light, we would be deceived to think that Jesus’ birth was somehow safe, sensible, and apolitical. Herod understood all too well the nature of Christ’s coming, and his paranoid political madness cost the lives of countless boys below the age of two because Jesus was a clear and present danger to his godless earthly reign.
Herod’s attempt to eliminate Jesus as a political threat, however, betrays the perennial tendency in our own time to make Jesus primarily an earthly political figure in a world of God-defying injustice, as if Jesus came to save the world by becoming another (presumably better) earthly king. To be sure, He came as King, but a King who first and foremost came to serve, suffer, and sacrifice Himself to save us from the disordered debris of a world damaged and shattered by sin.
But it takes deep humility to recognize and admit our dire and dreadful state of disorder. Instead, we desperately try to rebuild and renovate the wreckage of our lives, devising many creative and clever ways to deny or sweep it aside, reform it into more acceptable shapes and sizes, or even to somehow make peace with it.
The profound irony is that this seemingly helpless baby Jesus amidst the rubble is our only hope for restoration and peace. He lovingly dwells in the midst of our battered and broken lives, miraculously molding us into something strong, significant, and beautiful. But He only does this when we finally relinquish our futile attempts to redeem ourselves and fully trust in Him alone to forgive, restore, rebuild, and transform us from the inside out.
Given the widespread consensus in contemporary thought that slavery is wrong, why does the Bible seem strangely ambivalent concerning this institutional horror? In fact, one looks in vain in either the Old or New Testaments for an overt call for the abolition of slavery. Neither does the Bible prophetically thunder against its evils as an institution. In fact, as shocking as this sounds, slavery was widespread and generally accepted by almost everyone in ancient times as a basic and accepted aspect of society.
Having said that, however, the Bible does address the subject of slavery in certain ways that bear highlighting. First, compared to the practices and laws of other nations of that time and place, the Old Testament “softens” a lot of the stipulations surrounding its practice. Masters were not to be harsh toward slaves, provisions were made for their well-being (e.g., Deuteronomy 15-13-14), and they were offered freedom after only seven years of service. Exodus 21 gives examples of the appropriate ways in which the Israelites were to treat slaves.
Part of the reason for this “softening” of slavery was because the Israelites themselves had been slaves in Egypt. This harsh bondage was something for which the Egyptians were punished very harshly by God. Thus, the Israelites were to treat their own slaves kindly (e.g., Deuteronomy 24:17-18) and not be guilty of an offense in kind.
Although the Old Testament undercuts the harshness and length of slavery, it was still widespread and accepted in the ancient Near East. This acceptance of slavery as a normal social institution continued up until the time of the Roman Empire in the first century. In fact, by the time of the New Testament, it is estimated that as many as one-third of the Roman empire consisted of slaves!
Still, slavery at that time (as well as in the ancient Near East) was not directly parallel or comparable to slavery in the modern era. First, slavery was not necessarily based on race. It often resulted from foreign conquest or from being unable to pay a debt. Second, being able to move up and out of slavery was both possible and sometimes even common. Third, many “slaves” were actually quite educated and skilled workers, being paid decent wages which were enough for them to buy personal goods and save for the future.
Nevertheless, as a whole, slavery was still a brutal and exploitative institution, and while the Old and New Testaments do not crusade for its abolishment, there is no doubt that the New Testament especially sows the seeds for the condemnation and abolition of slavery after the time of Christ. See, for example, verses like 1 Corinthians 7:21-23, 12:13, Galatians 3:28, Colossians 3:11, and 1 Timothy 1:10. In this regard, the book of Philemon is especially significant. Here Paul tells Philemon to consider his escaped slave, Onesimus, a “beloved brother” and equal in Christ. All these passages and more clearly point toward human equality under the gospel of Christ and away from the degradation and oppression of institutional slavery.
Many feel (and I agree) that in the progress of revelation, this was the moral trajectory God was moving toward with its foundation in the fact that all human beings—male and female—are created in His image (Genesis 1:26-27) and therefore worthy of equal respect and opportunities for flourishing.
Ultimately, the Bible neither overtly condemns nor openly condones slavery. It does, however, strongly mitigate and change the nature of the institution such that its teachings eventually led to an almost universal renunciation and abolition of it in the modern era, something that would have been impossible apart from the biblical view of the equal value and dignity of every human being made in the image of God.
I recently heard a Christian remark, “I agree that the Bible teaches homosexuality is wrong, but why should we make non-Christians conform to our moral standards, especially when our own Christian life is largely unaffected?” While the statement reflects several contemporary ideological and ethical assumptions that give it an appearance of wisdom, it actually conceals several significant moral perils and falsehoods.
To begin, the statement assumes that a Christian view of morality is relevant only to Christians and has no bearing upon the rest of humanity. This is both true and false, depending upon the nature of the ethical behavior under consideration. For example, Christians are often called to higher ethical standards than non-believers with respect to things like love. Christians must not only love God and one another, we must also love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44). When forced to go one mile, we ought to go two (Matthew 5:41).
We should not compel non-Christians to live up to such demanding standards of moral excellence. They are specifically Christian responsibilities that God not only expects, but through His Holy Spirit also empowers and enables believers to fulfill. But when it comes to more general ethical standards, these are designed by God to benefit every human being, regardless of religious affiliation. This is true because all humans are made in God’s image.
This assumes and affirms, however, that there is a divine creation order, something directly challenged by contemporary ideologies that claim we are not subject to any transcendent design plan. Many today suggest that we can (really, we must) create our own meaning and define our own identity. But if we are created by God in His image, then we are designed according to His purposes and plans. Our identity and meaning are grounded in our unique status as creatures stamped with this divine image.
Attempting to step away from or outside of that transcendent creation order is a recipe for difficulty and adversity. As C. S. Lewis puts it, “Moral rules are directions for running the human machine. Every moral rule is there to prevent a breakdown, or a strain, or a friction, in the running of that machine.” Thus, some actions are more destructive than others when it comes to human beings in general, not just for Christians in particular.
Throughout history, the nature and extent of these more universal prohibitions has been debated, but until very recently, most societies considered things like submitting to and honoring parents, preserving innocent and vulnerable life (especially human life), truth-telling, sharing with those in need, as well as sexual modesty and propriety to be good for the overall flourishing of everyone in society, religious or otherwise. The crucial question, then, is this: Is the condemnation and avoidance of homosexual behavior a uniquely Christian sexual standard, or is this standard good for humanity in general, regardless of religious beliefs and commitments?
First and foremost, it’s important to remember that human sexuality is inherent to God’s image since He created us, “in His own image . . . male and female,” (Genesis 1:27). In this light, Scripture also affirms that marriage is the union of one male and one female (Genesis 2:24, cf. Matthew 19:4-6). Furthermore, this God-determined creation order is universal, predating our fall into sin. Together, male and female sexuality is divinely designed to reflect and depict God’s nature in the world. By submitting to this gendered and sexual creation order, we actually reveal some of God’s character and nature to each other.
Consequently, homosexual behavior is not merely problematic for Christians in particular, it is destructive and harmful for the long-term well-being and flourishing of every divine image-bearer. It not only distorts a fuller reflection of God’s character as seen through both sexes, it downplays the God-designed unitive and complementary nature of the two sexes, diminishing the procreative sexual mandate to “be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth” (Genesis 1:28).
Historically, this debate is neither new, nor has it been especially controversial. Even when homosexuality was tolerated, it was seldom considered normal or good for society as a whole. Thus, the West’s current obsession with and widespread promotion and celebration of an ever-growing list of unbridled sexual expressions is uniquely unprecedented and perilously untested.
Returning to the original statement, it further assumes that homosexual behavior is acceptable because it is largely a private activity, having little impact on society in general or the Christian in particular. Of course, most who actively support homosexuality and same-sex marriage don’t believe this. They adamantly argue that everyone should publicly accept and actively promote the fulfillment of homosexual desires as both normal and normative. For these pro-LGBT+ advocates, anyone who disagrees with and opposes their ethical viewpoint is a villain and immoral actor in this cultural conflict. They understand perfectly well that this issue is not a private moral affair. It impacts the basic ethical and societal notions of marriage, family, and human sexuality. Since the family and our understanding of human identity are foundational to society, any fundamental change in our conceptions of them will profoundly alter the society itself. By its nature, human sexuality is decidedly not just a “private affair.” It strikes at the very heart of what it means to be genuinely human.
In a related vein, the statement also ignores the role that legislation plays in the public vision of the common good and overall human flourishing. While making or keeping something illegal will not prevent the breaking of that law, it does, on some significant level, say something very important about the nature of the activity. It helps discourage its pursuit, giving it a decidedly negative moral connotation in the general society. This is precisely why the LGBT+ lobby has worked so hard to legalize homosexuality and same-sex marriage. They clearly understand that this helps not only makes them appear socially permissible but also morally and socially acceptable.
Yet another problem with the statement is that it subtly places human freedom, the power of the will, and the (especially sexual) desires of individuals above tradition, Scripture, and history—not to mention God Himself. There is a failure to comprehend the nature of human choices and how social cohesion and general human flourishing are often contained within a moral vision that sets carefully considered and long-established boundaries around certain arenas of human desires. In short, it has long been understood that not everything we want to do—even urgently and powerfully—is good for ourselves and society.
Of course, same-sex marriage and homosexual behavior are not the only relevant threats to societal flourishing, but they are symptomatic of a bevy of moral and ideological commitments that in the name of “moral progress” and “social justice” are tearing apart the social fabric of strong and healthy communities. God is certainly patient and gracious, but radically departing from the biblical norms of such foundationally formative social aspects like human sexuality, identity, marriage, and the family will inevitably be destructive, both communally and individually.
Just how destructive and how rapidly such harms will manifest themselves is hard to say but departing from the biblical vision of these foundations always, sooner or later, results in widespread social degradation and disintegration. Therefore, Christians must display greater courage and wisdom to graciously but actively discourage the legalization and public celebration of same-sex marriage and homosexual behavior, not because we are “unloving,” “hate gays,” or are “homophobic.” To the contrary, we oppose these precisely because we deeply care about the flourishing of everyone made in God’s image—same-sex attracted people included.
I admit not all Christians agree with this conclusion. Some believe we are better off being political and social separatists. Others claim that God’s love condones or even supports homosexuality and same-sex marriage. I have argued elsewhere against this latter view and for reasons stated here consider the former view unwise and unsustainable.
I am also keenly aware that in today’s moral climate, such claims may seem not only ridiculous, but deeply offensive and even dangerous. I have no illusions about the likelihood that this (until recently widely supported) prohibitory perspective will be reembraced by western society anytime soon. This is not because it’s wrong, but because the (fallacious) contemporary western conceptions of the family, human sexuality, and identity make it seem implausible, unpopular, and perhaps even cruel and psychologically harmful.
Nevertheless, we must not ignore the dangers or even promote the lie that flouting God’s creational purposes and plans will lead to greater human flourishing. It will only do the opposite. Satan made the same false and deceptive promise to Adam and Eve in the garden (Genesis 3:1-6), and He continues to make it to us today. As Proverbs 14:12 warns, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.”
God, in contrast, offers everyone a life of genuine flourishing through the arduous but infinitely rewarding path of humble submission and joyful obedience to Him, our loving and wise Creator and King. As Deuteronomy 30:19-20 puts it: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing. Therefore choose life, so that you and your descendants may live, and that you may love the LORD your God, obey Him, and hold fast to Him. For He is your life.”
There’s a lot of talk these days about social justice. Caring about and correcting injustice has suddenly become fashionable and trendyin popular culture. Many in the Church have jumped on board the social justice bandwagon. Who, after all, is more concerned about societal justice than Jesus?
There’s nothing wrong with following a cultural trend that moves society in the right direction, of course. Who can seriously argue against the need to eradicate racism, abolish sex-trafficking, and advocate for fair wages and safe working conditions for the underprivileged? Still, I as argued in previous posts, Christians must avoid being misled by false or inadequate definitions of justice. They also need to discern what are the means and ways used to rectify such wrongs, unmasking and repudiating any use of ungodly and unhelpful methods masquerading as “social justice.”
But what about Jesus? Was He a “social justice warrior,” or has the contemporary movement simply used His name and made Him into a caricature of the biblical portrait? One of the primary passages cited to prove that Jesus was all about social justice is Luke 4:16-21. Used by Jesus to formally inaugurate His earthly ministry, the passage mentions proclaiming “good news to the poor,” providing “liberty for the captives,” “sight for the blind,” and freedom “for those who are oppressed.”
Another popular passage is Matthew 25:31-46, which comes at the end of His earthly ministry. Here Jesus lists the activities and criteria He will use to judge between the righteous and the wicked. He puts it this way to the righteous: “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.”
On the face of it, this looks like a program of social justice at its finest, and it would hardly be appropriate to question the value and importance of Christians caring for people in the situations Jesus mentions. Christians certainly should be actively caring for the poor, needy, and disenfranchised! This is inherent to God’s kingdom work on earth and should not be relegated to some sort of second or third-class concern.
Having said that, however, when Jesus begins His earthly ministry of social care and service, one looks in vain for any significant political activism, commentary, or critique. This is not due to a dearth of potential material, of course. The moral atrocities, slave system, oppressive racism, and socially sectarian Roman policies of Jesus’ time are well-documented. In addition, Jesus’ followers fully expected and hoped for Jesus to be, as Messianic King, an expressly political figure (see, for example, Acts 1:6). Despite many clear opportunities, Jesus unveils no formal political activist program to rectify the systemic evils of His time and place. In fact, it is remarkable how utterly apolitical Jesus’ ministry of social justice actually is.
I highlight this to make a critically important point: Jesus did and does care about those who are oppressed, disadvantaged, and damaged by a sinful system and society. But the solutions He offers, while endowed with supernatural power, are not especially political or external in nature. Instead, they are mainly invitational, educational, and especially spiritual and moral. And while many are manifest in clearly material ways, those solutions point beyond the material toward our need to first and foremost be reconciled to God.
In contrast, many contemporary Christians advocating for social justice tend to couch it almost entirely in political and systemic terms. In their minds, social justice means the political reformation of societal systems and norms so that marginalized people can be empowered, heard, and taken seriously. The unjust social systems are assumed to be the primary (if not sole) reason these people are marginalized. What is often ignored or discounted is the individual problem of sin. In this sense, marginalization is real, but the reasons for it are not merely political and systemic, grounded primarily in the sins of others. There are intensely personal moral and spiritual problems here as well, and the means to providing genuine solutions must also account for our individual need to repent and be reconciled to God as well as to others.
I say this to demonstrate that when talking about Jesus’ brand of social justice and the gospel, the kinds of priorities and programs promoted by those passionate about social justice today often miss the primary problem of personal depravity. If you disagree, consider the book of Acts. Granted, in Acts 2:42-47, they “had all things in common.” The picture presented sounds very socialistic and just, but it was an entirely voluntary kind of sharing and not governmentally mandated or coerced. In addition, the rest of book says virtually nothing about these types of arrangements among Christians. It’s not that they had or didn’t have them. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. That’s beside the point. What’s important to notice is that they prioritized sharing the gospel, planting churches, and making disciples. They pursued virtually no formal program for rectifying the overtly racist and unjust social systems of their time.
Instead, they directly ministered to the spiritually poor and blind as well to those who were materially afflicted in various ways. As Matthew 15:14 and Revelation 3:17 make clear, the problems highlighted by Jesus in Luke 4 were not simply material, they were also deeply spiritual. They had material manifestations, of course, but every physical solution He provides points beyond itself to the spiritual significance of His miracles.
In this way, the need for physical healing ultimately points beyond itself to the need for spiritual help and healing. As Jesus points out in Mark 2:17, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Beyond a normal doctor, we need the Great Physician to spiritually heal us. Our need for physical sustenance points beyond itself to our spiritual need for heavenly bread. Thus, Jesus is our real physician as well as our “true bread” (John 6:32). While we need healing from physical blindness, our deeper need is for spiritual light and guidance. Thus, Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
In light of this, the ministry accounts of Jesus’ early followers show that they were largely disinterested in much of what many today consider “social justice.” Instead, they primarily focused on proclaiming the simple message of the gospel concerning our need to trust in the crucified and gloriously risen Christ for the forgiveness of sin and helping those who believed to grow together in their new-found faith. But again, this does not mean that Jesus and His followers were unconcerned about people’s physical problems and needs. After all, when there was a famine in Jerusalem, many churches took up a collection to help the poor and needy there (see 1 Corinthians 16:1-4), and Paul speaks about his eagerness to “remember the poor” in Galatians 2:10. Not only this, Jesus makes it clear in Matthew 25:31-46 that Christians are supposed to feed the hungry, give drinks to the thirsty, welcome strangers, cloth the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned.
We cannot and must not ignore our Christian obligations to care for people in need. There is no dichotomy between sharing the good news that Jesus Christ came and died to save sinners and meeting the social and physical needs of people made in God’s image. But the ministry of the early church reveals that their primary mission was concerned about helping people be reconciled to God. They met physical and social and educational and economic needs, but not through political action committees or any educational, economic, and social initiatives enforced by local, state, and federal governments.
Instead, while proclaiming this divine message of healing and hope, they also fed the hungry, gave drinks to the thirsty, healed the sick, visited the imprisoned, clothed the naked, parented orphans, educated the illiterate, prayed for their leaders, loved their enemies, and cared for one another. And they did all of this at great personal and communal cost, placing no demands or expectations upon the governments of their time to rectify these widespread and on-going social injustices. They understood that before Christ’s second coming, the “kingdom of God” was not, first and foremost, a political and material kingdom, but a spiritually powerful kingdom that in Jesus’ own words was “not of this world” (John 18:36). As a result of this kind of ministry, they radically change the course of history and “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6).
I close with an acknowledgment and a warning. First, I acknowledge that in democratic societies, Christians still have genuine opportunities to influence and encourage good governance, and they should take full advantage of that. I also agree that political, educational, economic, and social institutions have an important place in helping to bring about a more just society for everyone, so long as they are willing to hear wise counsel and enact genuinely just policies.
My warning, however, is this: When something (like social justice) becomes vogue in the broader culture, the church should be wary of uncritically jumping on board the populist bandwagon. Given many of the openly hostile and anti-biblical assumptions of contemporary culture, it is no accident that some brands of “social justice” openly embrace things like abortion (touted as “women’s healthcare and reproductive rights”) and the LGBT+ lobby (touted as “justice for the marginalized and oppressed”). In this vein, you can no longer be anti-abortion, question the wisdom of sex-change operations, or consider sexual intimacy outside the context of heterosexual marriage immoral and still be “standing on the right side of history” or an advocate for genuine justice.
I am reminded of the dire reprimand in Isaiah 5:20-21: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight!”
Only when Jesus returns as the conquering King will social injustice and sin be completely eradicated and everything rectified. It is to that eschatological political vision that Christians must continuously look while seeking to bring the healing and hope of Jesus into the midst of a crooked and perverse generation where we are to “shine like stars” in the face of so much moral injustice and spiritual darkness.
In the first part of this three-part series, we looked briefly at retributive and meritorious justice. In part two, we examined the controversial notion of egalitarian justice. In this concluding part, we will consider need justice and then look at the inherently concrete nature of applying justice correctly in any given situation.
Need Justice
For Christians, need justice is illustrated in passages like Ephesians 4:28 which says, “Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.”
This kind of justice seeks to discern things like to whom and when and how much and what kind of help and for how long should be given to those who are needy. Scripturally speaking, the mere presence of need does not necessarily constitute an obligation (as a matter of justice) for that need to be met by others. This is true because the Bible speaks about at least two basic kinds of poverty: “guiltless” and “guilty.”
With respect to the former, Jeremiah 2:34 says, “Also on your skirts is found
the lifeblood of the guiltless poor.” From the context we can see that these are people who are poor not due to their own sin but because of the exploitative and selfish sins of others.
With respect to those poor who are poor or disadvantaged because of their own sin, Isaiah 9:17 says, “Therefore the Lord does not rejoice over their young men and has no compassion on their fatherless and widows; for everyone is godless and an evildoer, and every mouth speaks folly.” In short, these people may have been “fatherless and widows,” but they were still godless evildoers. As hard as it is to say, some people actually deserve their misfortune because they make foolish and ungodly choices. Part of the reason contemporary people have such a hard time admitting this is that our strongly Rousseau-influenced thinking tends see people as victims of external familial and social structures rather than the recipients of the just consequences their own decisions.
Of course, it’s not a simple either/or distinction. Some of us have come from more damaging and dysfunctional settings than others. That much is a given. But even within those contexts, we can still decide how we will respond to any injustices inflicted upon us. And some of us have come from relatively functional situations and have still chosen to make a mess of things on our own. If Adam and Eve teach us nothing else, we must admit that a perfect environment and a simple and clear prohibition will not prevent human beings from making bad choices if they so desire.
Because we live in a society that tends to see the poor and downtrodden as being almost completely victimized, we seldom have the interest or discernment to see who are needy because of injustice and who are needy due to their own unwise decisions.
Thus, fulfilling need justice has the complex but important task of discerning who is genuinely needy because of injustice and how they can be helped accordingly. We should not ignore those who have “made their own bed and now have to lie in it,” but real justice demands that first priority be given to those who are needy for reasons beyond their own control. And their needs should be met in holistic ways that give them an empowering hand up rather than just a conscience-easing but ultimately dehumanizing hand out.
Once again, the multilayered factors that lead to poverty and need are seldom easy to sort out from a distance, and there is a tendency for large governmental agencies to make things easier in the short-run by making simple designations based on obvious factors like race and socioeconomic incomes. Genuinely understanding the specific reasons why this person or this family or this community is stuck in a cycle of poverty is seldom so straightforward or easily solved. And many of the reasons are not strictly physical and socioeconomic in nature, even if they express themselves as such. In other words, these problems are most often deeply spiritual and require more than educational, material, and political solutions alone. These can help, but they are insufficient to explain and address some of the deepest reasons why people find themselves in significant need.
This is where the Church has a critical role to play in getting our hands messy and finding out the reasons why people in our immediate our vicinities are struggling. We can then provide spiritual and material resources to help get them on their feet and become healthy and contributing members of society.
Having looked very briefly at four aspects of justice—retributive, meritorious, egalitarian, and need justice—let’s conclude by asking one of the most important questions of all: How can we best and most justly apply each of these forms of justice?
Concrete Applications of Justice
There are countless directions this discussion could go, but this statement from Tim Keller’s article, “A Biblical Critique of Secular Justice and Critical Theory,” is a helpful place to start: “Biblically speaking, every one of these types of justice are applied and condoned in Scripture, but contrary to some theological views, no one aspect is obviously elevated or overwhelms any of the other aspects. In different times and situations, all [four] types—[retributive, meritorious, egalitarian, and need justice]—are observed and identified as reflecting the character and purposes of a good and righteous God.”
In short, the application of justice is multifaceted and intimately connected not only to God’s character but also to the concrete and specific situations in which it is carried out. It requires a significant level of discernment to know what kind of justice best applies, and even if justice (versus mercy, for example) is the best course of action to take in the first place. Unfortunately, in contemporary discussions, there is a strong tendency to take a single form of justice that is appropriately applied in some situations and demand that it is the only legitimate form of justice for all situations. Failing to understand and appreciate the contextual and concrete nature of justice and its different types and applications ends up creating greater, rather than lesser, injustice in society. Thus, elevating one type of justice above all others ironically and ultimately leads to greater social injustice.
In addition, demanding pure justice alone, detached from other crucial values and virtues, especially love and mercy, tends to make justice harsh and unsympathetic. Thus, there are tensions over when it’s best to show mercy and when it’s best to execute justice. In addition, love, properly defined, knows when to allow consequences to befall foolish and ungodly behavior and when to step in to try and prevent (or at least temper) the impact of bad choices. But true love also moves us to care for and alleviate suffering, especially when that suffering is undeserved.
The ideas of love and mercy are easier to see when applied to issues of retributive and punitive justice. This kind of justice must be tempered with love and mercy, or it becomes completely retaliatory and inevitably descends into nothing more than angry calls for payback and revenge. In other words, reprisal detached from redemptive love and merciful forgiveness tend to lead to harsh and destructive retribution.
The deeply ironic result is that pursuing justice without love and mercy results in a punitive state where grace is considered a weakness and an expression of injustice instead of a source of redemptive hope and life transformation. But again, knowing when to be merciful and kind versus merely fair and just takes significant wisdom and discernment, something impersonal governmental programs and authorities far-removed from the concrete realities of those situations are often ill-equipped and ill-suited to determine.
I would love to offer simple solutions to complex social problems, but the reality of life in a fallen world means that these issues are inherently convoluted and require sacrificial love, divine discernment, and spiritual transformations that are not found in the ideologies and resources of mere materialism. This is why we, as the Church in our concrete locations, are so central to providing real and lasting solutions to the problems of injustice in our time. And to succeed in this great endeavor, we must rely upon the Spirit’s strength and wisdom to fulfill our calling to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). He alone demonstrates the perfect balance of how holiness and justice are coupled with patient mercy and redeeming love through the ministry of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ and the fellowship of His Holy Spirit.
lewinkler 