Category: culture

on *not* knowing God through experience

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Christians believe God can be known. If we want to know what God is like, we aren’t left to seek mountain-top or chemically-induced experiences, wonderful as they may be. We don’t need to take a course in analytic philosophy, as intellectually satisfying as that could be.

We just behold Christ, and thus we know God.

Without this revelation, God will be misunderstood. Greatly.

Creation points us to a creator of some kind. But if all we use to know God is our experience, we’ll have a distorted, incomplete, and warped view of God.

What we experience as his sustaining of creation could be mistaken for Spinozan Pantheism
What we experience as his patient non-interference could mistakenly be taken to buttress rationalist Deism
What we experience as his dramatic occasional miracles could convince you that he is an Interventionist Butler. God On Demand.

Scripture weaves all these things together in a kind of theological God Temple. Omnipresence, Omniscience, Omnipotence (see Ps 139, the first 18 verses). And then it rips down that temple and re-builds it around the person of Crucified and risen Christ (see Colossians 1 or Hebrews 1).

Or as Luther said, Crux Sola Est Nostra Theologia
The Cross is our only Theology.

spirit reality

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Question 1: What do these four have in common?

  • Foot-stomping, healing-declaring, tongue-speaking, Charismatic/Pentecostal churches
  • The prayers, incantations, curses, blessings and healing practices found in the vast diversity of various indigenous spiritualities
  • Catholic spirituality which includes practices like adoration of the Host (flowing from a belief in Transubstantiation), praying to departed saints, etc.
  • The various occultic practices that are stereotypically ‘dark’ and engage in a multitude of ways with the unseen realm

Answer 1: They all believe that interaction with spiritual realities is a normal, every-day component of life in our time-space-matter world.

Question 2: What do these two have in common?

  • Atheists, deists and/or philosophical naturalists.
  • A lot of Christian churches and denominations

Answer 2: They tend to strictly separate spiritual from physical, except for rare interventions, which one of them denies entirely.

Short Reflection:

Contrasting these two lists is a bit of a cheeky attempt at framing things to make a point. Another way to frame them would be on a spectrum, from totally denying any/all spirit activity at one end, to some possibly harmful ways of being hyper-focused on spiritual activity at the other end. (For example, I would not want to naively accept every belief or practice reflected in the rather ad-hoc and vastly diverse collection of the first four.)

But it is worth noticing the binary. It’s a warning to people like me. The more I think and speak and act like naturalistic atheists or deists, the less vital my spiritual life will be.

Whatever negatives we may want to assert about any of the first four, the basic worldview at work is perfectly reasonable and resonant with vast human experience. A worldview that has at least these few points:

  • reality is not just physical but also spiritual
  • engagement with spiritual reality is not just for special rare occasions, but to be a regular part of life
  • Spiritual reality is not simplistically ‘good’ and pure, but also consists of spiritual realities that are good-that-has-been-corrupted, or good that is no longer good, or good that is curved in on itself, or good that has fallen into a state of malevolence. Or put simply: there are angels and demons. Good and Evil.

Taking evil seriously is directly referenced in the prayer that Jesus gave his disciples: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one…”

The evil one does not tempt us in stereotypically obvious ways. It’s possible to be meticulously avoidant of any situations that could possibly lead you to anything even remotely resembling ‘demon possession’, whilst being naively unaware of evil’s sway in your life through ordinary things like viewing advertisements, shopping, avoiding people you don’t like, hundreds of ordinary fears and resentments, escaping from work with sensational travel experiences, etc.

The evil One, the great enemy, the adversary, the devil, the deceiver, the prince and power of the air, the Satan, Lucifer, and all the evil spirits or demons that exist – are rightly understood to be temporary, limited, permitted, defeated, destined for destruction, and in no way equal to the power and authority of the Good Creator.

a psalm of un-timely justice

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Psalm 37 is a justice Psalm.

It is not easy to categorize it within Walter Bruggemann’s famous and immensely schema of orientation, disorientation and reorientation. It seems at times to simplistically state (as orientation Psalms do) that God protects the righteous and judges the wicked. But it also acknowledges the present reality of injustice (like disorientation Psalms do). It also looks forward to a time of reorientation when ‘you will see’ with your own eyes the downfall of the wicked.

The Psalm comes from a seasoned David who has seen how justice and injustice play out. He says in verse 25, “I have been young, and now I am old.” Here is David who has learned the wisdom of the ages that simple retaliation and vengeance only does more harm. He packs this wisdom into two lines in verse 8:

Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
    do not fret—it leads only to evil.

We live in a season of human history where culture seems to be really keen on speaking out against oppression and injustice, rooting out aggression even at the microscopic level. This, as I’ve said countless times, flows from a good and godly impulse that rightly judges and wants to respond righteously to evil, oppression, aggression and anything that harms.

Elsewhere in the Psalter, David will join in this justice party. Heck, he has plenty to say about injustice in this Psalm. The wicked borrow and don’t repay, while the righteous give and lend from a posture of mercy. The wicked plot against the poor. Injustice is always economic.

But in this verse, he takes a different tone. People are sometimes concerned about ‘tone policing’. Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me I can’t be angry. But here David is policing his own tone. Or better yet, the wisdom that only comes from years of experience has affected his tone.

Embarrassingly, we see an aged David speaking as though to the hot-headed young social justice warriors, gently coaxing them to not get too upset about such upsetting things. “Yes all this injustice really is evil. But don’t be angry. Don’t fret. Don’t get tied up in knots about this. That will only lead to more injustice and evil. Their downfall is coming. Just you wait. Their own sword used to harm others will come back on themselves.”

This is holy week, and I preached last Sunday on the story of Judas. My theory is that Judas thought he was doing the righteous thing. He, like so many, wanted a military Messiah to make Israel great again. He would have been frustrated with a Jesus who rallied the people only to suggest that they would counter oppression by ensuring that they themselves didn’t participate in or mirror it.

And that’s the great tragedy of evil responses to evil. They are counter productive. Victims take vengeance against their oppressors and soon become oppressors themselves. Their own sword turns back to pierce their own hearts.

God’s way is different. He works in an un-timely manner, as far as we are concerned. He waits for evil to break itself. He waits for us to stop fighting and surrender to the reality that our swords, blogs, jabs, memes, pipe-bombs, or counter-strikes only make more evil.

The Scriptures tell us to wait on the Lord and for his justice.

Does this mean we do nothing? Just sit back and take oppression? Not at all. Jesus celebrates the persistent widow who pleads for justice against her adversary. But this woman had policed her own tone. It was passionate but not vengeful. It was persistent but not violent.

God save us from anger that makes things worse. Amen.

bad remorse?

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The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, gives incredibly simple, practical and transformative guidance for daily rhythms of prayer and meditation. Instructions are given for how to pray and meditate a) to start the day (“Upon awakening…”), b) during the day (“As we go through the day…), and c) as you finish the day (“When we retire at night…”). It’s brilliant stuff.

The advice on how to finish the day suggests we “constructively review” the day. This is very similar to the Examen prayer familiar to some Christians. It is, however, less generally focused on ‘where did I sense God’s grace today’ and more specifically inquisitive – asking us to look for when we may have been “resentful, selfish, dishonest or afraid” at any point. It leads us to bring this to God and ask for what we might do to correct this.

It then has some great advice about making sure this review is constructive rather than self-destructive. It says: “But we must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection…” Why not, you may ask? The advice continues and answers, “…for that would diminish our usefulness to others.” (p. 86)

When I’m obsessed about myself, even my own failures, I’m really no use to anyone.

The word ‘remorse’ jumps out at me. Isn’t ‘remorse’ a good thing for those who have done something wrong? What is meant by this guidance about avoiding ‘remorse’?

Dictionary.com has this helpful discussion of the Latin root for the word ‘remorse’:

In Latin, mordere means “to bite;” thus, remorse is something that “gnaws” at you over and over. In criminal court, judges are always looking for signs that a convicted felon is suffering remorse for his crime; if not, the judge may well lengthen his sentence or deny him parole after serving part of it. Remorse is stronger than mere regret; real remorse is the kind of thing that may last a lifetime.

The wisdom of the AA Big Book’s guidance becomes instantly clear. This kind of ‘remorse’ is far more than admitting, acknowledging and amending for past wrongs. It is a continual ‘biting’ of self that is hopelessly self-focused, self-pitying, self-obsessed, and ultimately self-destructive.

One final reflection on the judge and sentencing metaphor may be helpful.

It’s true that judges consider remorse as they weigh up appropriate sentencing. I think this is true socially as well. If a politician is caught doing something wrong and isn’t ‘remorseful’ enough, they are seen to be arrogant and not appropriately sorry, and likely to do the same thing again. Social discourse is quick to pounce on anyone who is not publicly and severely ashamed of themselves.

There can be an unintended dynamic that results from such understandable social judgmentalism. Wrongdoers know what is coming if their situation is to become known, and they anticipate and internalise the judgment upon themselves. They are quietly killing themselves even as they continue in the wrong. Another thing that can happen is that remorse can be performative. We perform remorse to assure our critics that we are sufficiently horrified at ourselves. But performative remorse is self-protective and not transformative.

The AA Big Book strikes a profound balance. Wrongdoing of any kind is to be weeded out with the utmost vigilance and humility. But such weeding must be ‘constructive’ and transformative. It is not about protecting oneself from public shame, or proving to them (or yourself) how sorry you are and demonstrating the high level of justifiable hate you have for yourself. Obsessing about how bad, stupid, foolish or wrong you were is really of no use to anyone.

What is of use to everyone, including ourselves, is simple, and far less dramatic and sensational. Admitting and seeking to amend your wrongs.

the good muslim

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A Contemporary Targum of Luke 10:25-37

One day, an expert in theological ethics went to Jesus to test him. “Lord… How do I live in such a way that it looks like I am a part of the people aligned with heaven?. What’s the just and righteous way to live, here and now?”

“Do you have a Bible?” he replied, “Give me your hot take on biblical ethics.”

“Well, Jesus, as you know the Bible is a big book, filled with a lot of stories and moments that people debate this way and that. And ethics is complex, man! My doctoral thesis explores this in detail… of course…” The expert’s sentence trailed off… [At this point Jesus looked at the expert with a kind puzzled look, wondering if he was actually going to answer his question or not…] The expert regathered himself and continued… “But sure… yes… a summary… Yes, I do think… when you read it as one story… an overarching metanarrative… and let the obvious parts function as a lens to interpret the hard to-understand parts… I reckon the basic message of the Bible is all about love. Love as far up as you can imagine – to the God of all creation – with all you have; emotion, identity, action and intellect; and love other humans because that’s how you’d want to be treated too.”

“Impressive!” Jesus replied. “Now those are some good theological ethics, right there. If you put those ethical theories into practice, my friend, you’re on the right track.”

The religious expert instantly felt threatened. He wondered why Jesus had said ‘if’ he put that into practice. Was Jesus suggesting that he maybe wasn’t already putting his theology into practice? He was a good guy. He had good ‘balanced’ theology, after all… Surely Jesus agreed with him, right? So, to make sure he was right, he asked another question. “But Jesus… it’s not really that simple, right? I mean, whose ethical interpretation do I hold to? Surely you’re aware how hard ethical debates can be. Especially with the internet and social media echo chambers splitting us into tribes? Each one thinks ‘they’ are right and the ‘others’ are wrong, you know? Everyone defines ‘love’ differently… It’s grey chaos and feisty angst out there, right?”

In reply, Jesus told this story: “One morning, a drag queen was going to their day job. They weren’t wearing their drag outfit, make-up and bling, but a group of frat boys recognized the drag queen. ‘Hey,’ they said to one another, ‘it’s that drag queen who’s been in the news.” Their blood vessels and brain synapses surging with testosterone and ego, they mocked and teased the drag queen, getting up in their face, yelling and intimidating. The drag queen pushed them away asking to be left alone. That was all the boys needed to begin mercilessly beating him. Four on one, it was no contest. They ran away laughing, leaving the drag queen in blood-soaked tears.”‘

“From across the street, a minister had seen the last few seconds of the encounter. He was from a church that had the word ‘Bible’ in its name, and he had also watched the news stories about this drag queen. He prided himself that he would have never been violent like those frat boys, but reasoned that maybe this drag queen would learn from this and reflect on their actions. Tough love seemed a fitting response. So he put his head down and kept walking, thanking God that he had not gotten himself into the kind of mess that this poor drag queen had.”

“Walking right behind the minister was a well-known MP for a very left-leaning party. She had an urgent and confident pace, and was wearing a rainbow pin as an expression of her allyship to rainbow folk. She was head-down in her phone and hadn’t even noticed what was going on. A conservative family member had posted something negative about (ironically) the very drag queen who lay bleeding across the road. She was sharing that story on her own page, with her own corrective comments, soundly demonstrating that she was on the right side of history. She walked onwards, totally oblivious to the drag queen who lay distraught just a few meters away…”

“But then,” Jesus continued, “a Muslim was walking behind both the pastor and the MP. He had been out for his morning prayers and had seen the frat boys do their worst. He’d already phoned for help as he crossed the road to attend to the drag queen. When he reached the drag queen, the Muslim greeted him, ‘Hello, brother. I’ve called for some help. Is it OK if I check your wounds?” The Muslim sat down on the concrete sidewalk next to the drag queen and put his arm around them, providing serviettes he had in his pocket to stop the bleeding from the drag queen’s nose and mouth. He sat with them until the ambulance arrived. On his lunch break the next day, he visited the drag queen in the hospital and helped them contact their other friends and family who were eager to visit. Without posting on social media, he also secretly donated a sacrificial amount to an organisation set up to care for people who are victims of things like crime or discriminatory violence.”

Jesus paused and then asked the expert in religion a question: “Tell me which of these three, the minister, the MP or the Muslim… which one loved the drag queen as they would want to be loved?”

The expert in religious ethics hesitated. He was not only well-read in ethics and philosophy, but also apologetics. He knew with exacting certainty why he was a Christian and not a Muslim… Finally he mumbled, “Well, I suppose you’d have to say it was the third one, who… you know… helped him.”

Jesus looked at him with compassion and said, “Yes, that’s the one, my friend. This difficult and challenging teaching I’m giving you now is about action. Action that shows your beliefs have travelled from your brain to your gut. Action that directly and practically helps. Not just having ‘correct morals’ to win theological debates… Not mere ‘performative allyship’ to show the Metaverse how loving you are… Action. Real, humane action. Real compassion. Go and do likewise.”

God the ultimate accepter

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I’m in the midst of running a project for work that involves around 50 or so people. It puts me in collaborative partnership with a filming studio, audio technicians, receptionists, just over 40 contributors, station content directors, and producers.

It’s going really well and I’m enjoying the process. No complaints of any real magnitude.

There have been the odd moment of something happening a way that I didn’t expect, didn’t want or didn’t plan for. Perhaps my enjoyment of the process is entirely due to my ability to process these little issues with acceptance.

I’ve been reflecting on acceptance. In my experience it’s easier to accept something when I know that I have absolutely no ability to control or manage it. If I feel even a bit like I can influence the outcome, I start to be a bit less accepting of the outcome being what I do not want. It’s worse when the ‘thing’ is connected to or reflects upon me.

Nobody would suggest that acceptance is the only principle to life one’s life by. If we accepted everything in the most literal sense, we would become entirely passive spectators in life. Never participating consciously, actively, assertively. We would be not living life, but watching life go by.

Too much acceptance can be a problem. But instead I’ve been reflecting on the problem of too little acceptance. It’s a problem when I try to control things that I should not try to control.

As the Ultimate Being who created, oversees and is redeeming all of Reality, God is by definition the most ‘in control’ entity imaginable. Christians, and all other monotheists, believe that not one quasar or quark pulsates without the power and permission of Creator God. And yet, God seems to have chosen to be (at the same time) the most ‘accepting’ entity. Christians believe that although God could force planets, persons and plant-life to do precisely as he wants, he nonetheless has chosen not to do so. God has given various kinds of real freedom to various kinds of created things.

I don’t believe that the shape of scope which the universe has taken is of any surprise to God, but at the same time, I believe that God has, without being in any way detached or distant from nature (I’m not a deist), not micromanaged every microscopic moment. Rather, like a Mother or Father, God loving watches over the thing which he has so lovingly and wisely created. Trees grow according to their genetic code, seeking sunlight and water. Each tree takes a unique shape. And yet each tree is playing by the same rules and restrictions. One doesn’t see a tree suddenly sprout forth a horse’s head.

Humans too, are free to choose, train themselves this or that way, to develop as they wish. And yet, we cannot fly. We can’t survive like fish underwater. We are not as strong as some animals. This freedom is from God.

So God is in control but not controlling.

God is the ultimate accepter.

At times, we try to control others in ways that God doesn’t. We must have convinced ourselves that God requires our help making the world the way he wants it.

And of course this too is not entirely wrong. God does delegate. God works, speaks, heals and rules through humans. But perhaps at times we need to remember to be a bit more godlike in allowing others to be and to do what they wish.

God does this constantly and on a breathtaking scale with humanity. Humans are always violating God’s will. We lie, cheat, and steal. And the God who is constantly speaking and wooing us away from such sins, nonetheless has chosen to be the kind of God who will not step in and force us to do the right thing. We are beautifully and tragically free.

God is the ultimate accepter.

And we too, must learn to mirror God in his longsuffering acceptance of others. Most of all when their choices interfere with my preferences and plans.

It doesn’t mean we never try to influence things. It doesn’t mean we can never have a leadership position. It does mean that, like God, we have to restrain ourselves from pushing others past a certain point.

We must accept as God the ultimate accepter does.

from resentment to acceptance

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Many of us will be familiar with the four stages of competence. It’s a really useful framework:

  • Unconscious incompetence – we are unaware of room for improvement
  • Conscious incompetence – we learn we have room for improvement
  • Conscious competence – we are doing better with deliberate concentration
  • Unconscious competence – we do better naturally without having to concentrate

These stages can be helpfully applied to the journey from resentment to acceptance.

  • Unconscious resentment – we are angry, but not aware of it or the ways it is keeping us sick.
  • Conscious resentment – our anger is still hindering our mental health, but at least we are aware of it
  • Conscious acceptance – we make a conscious decision (or multiple decisions!) to let go of our anger and accept others as imperfect like us – we enjoy moments of relief from the effects that anger has on our mental health.
  • Unconscious acceptance – seeing others as equal to us has become an embedded habit – a way of being that we do not have to labour at – more like brushing teeth than solving a complex problem.

the disturbing arrival of just mercy

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For those of us in contexts with a wealth of technology and media (and a poverty of contentment and patience), many of us are feeling weary, tired and over it. This is an exhaustion that goes deeper than number of hours worked or slept. It is an underlying dissatisfaction with things… something… or maybe everything.

Further Fracturing…

Humans have had their usual military, political and personal dramas for aeons. But something is different. There is growing division and distrust and distance from one another. We are losing hope. Relationships seem more fragile. We have more and more reasons to avoid one another. More and more things are harder and harder to talk about. Discourse is toxic. Extremes widen. We seem strangely eager to uncover wrongs, and understandably terrified of being seen to be affiliated with anything wrong. We are determined to be right, or at least less wrong than ‘them’.

And underneath this, we are slowly waking up to the reality that our greatest boast in the modern world, science, is not the simple saviour we had hoped it was. We are beginning to admit that even an impressively comprehensive collection of accurate factoids cannot itself provide the epistemic basis for meaning, value, justice, human rights, compassion.

Worse still, it seems that our heroic efforts at making a more just world sooner or later take on the broken and fragile characteristics of our individual and collective psychologies. Our demonizing, defensiveness, vengeance, resentment, superiority (so often mixed with inferiority), fear and hopelessness end up pouring fuel on the fires of injustice. Seeking justice, we create more injustice.

As the Psalms frequently invite us to do: “Selah” (reflect on this for a moment)

The God of Just Mercy

The Christmas story, amidst all the consumptive noise, unintentionally exclusive gatherings, Santa hats and holiday ‘meh’, is about the arrival of the God of just mercy.

Luke’s historically-savvy Gospel understood well the reality of Roman oppression of 1st century Israel. Luke captures the song known as Mary’s Magnificat (see Luke 1:45-55), rich with feisty social justice themes of powerful people being cast down and rich being sent away empty, while the humble are lifted up and the poor are filled with good things. Despite what you may hear on streets or screens, the biblical Gospel was never only about individuals going to heaven after they die. God longs for his fair and just rule to be realised here on earth. Now.

To riff off of Isaiah 58, God is the breath in the lungs of the oppressed when they ‘lift up their voice’ (v.1) against oppressors – even (especially!?) religious oppressors (‘my people’ / ‘the descendants of Jacob’ v.1).

The Bible clearly and consistently shows God to despise oppression and injustice, but we should not mistake the Gospel for the kind of popular rage that wants to burn it all down. God doesn’t burn for the sake of burning. Like a farmer burning off a field, the fire is for fresh grass to grow.

The Magnificat ends with mercy.

Yes, the immediate focus is on mercy to the ancestors of Abraham, but those who know Scripture will recall that Abraham (Genesis 12:1-3) and his people had a vocation not simply to burn with judgmental finger-pointing at the nations forever, but to be a channel of blessing to them. The prophet Jeremiah knew that even in exile among their oppressors, the victim mentality that so often justifies violence would do them no good. Before Christ ever said “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”, he told the captives to “seek the peace of the city…” Even in Babylon, a city continually reminding Israel of their oppression, Jeremiah wants them to have a different stronger memory of his words that “in its peace you shall have peace.” (Jeremiah 29)

God is not revealed as a tyrant in the thunderclouds, who gets a real kick every time he gets a chance to topple, expose, shame or punish someone. Yes, God is angry at oppression to be sure. But God knew the familiar patterns of injustice long before we did. God knows that oppressors often justify their oppression with their own claimed (or maybe even real) experience of oppression. God knows the cycle. Nobody’s hands are really clean.

Justice – and Mercy – for Everyone?

God knows that justice has to be mixed with mercy and hope – for everyone.
Obviously the oppressed… but even oppressors.

The Oppressed are offered hope that oppression will not go unpunished in the end, and practical real-world assistance as the God of justice empowers down-to-earth help from their neighbours, allies and prophets.

As for Oppressors, yes they are summoned to repair the damage they’ve done as best they can, but they too are offered the hope of renewal and new life. For Israel who “oppresses all [their] workers” and more, they are challenged to change, for sure.

But… they are also told of the life they can have if they do.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.

And that is at least one ingredient that missing in our world. A justice that is merciful and vulnerable. A justice for all. Hope for all. A God whose compassionate justice – whose just mercy – is well described from the times of Exodus:

The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, 7 maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished…”

Punishment and Forgiveness.
Justice and Mercy.
Consequences and Restoration.
Held together in redemptive, transformative tension.

This God does not leave oppressors to oppress. The consequences of injustice are firm and full punishment. But nonetheless, even the “wickedness, rebellion and sin” of oppressors can be forgiven and overcome.

The author of the persistently profound hymn extolling the wonder of a Grace that “saved a wretch like me” is none other than an oppressor – the former slave-owner John Newton.

This is a merciful justice that may disrupt our popular rage or political resentment. But it just may be the one solution to injustice that actually works. If we would have the courage, and yes the mercy, to give it a try.

Have a merry and merciful (and just) Christmas.

sword & shield v. cross & towel

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All humans carry a sword and a shield.

We strike out at and critique others with our verbal, philosophical, political, social or literal swords. We block and defend ourselves from criticism with our good intentions, mimising excuses, self-justifying reasoning. Our shields.

It’s not that we should never defend ourselves, and I don’t know if we should be surprised that people and nations frequently want to have at least some kind of readiness to respond to violence. It’s just that the sword and shield become a way of being. They shape us into people whose tendency is to critique others and defend ourselves.

This even happens within ourselves, psychologically. We divide ourselves into parts: parent / child, good / bad, the rebel / the law, or what have you… One part of us critiques the other part, and the other part defends itself. We don’t have to suffer from multiple-personality disorder to relate to the experience of feeling simultaneously innocent and righteous on the one hand and victimised and full of self pity on the other hand. It’s the sword and shield again. Just directed inward.

Christianity offers a way of life where we trust God to be our sword and shield.

We don’t need to take up the sword against others and sort them out. (Or ourselves.) God is just. (And merciful.) The biblical wisdom is that God almost always does this in his usual way – by delegation. Natural law, imperfect human governments, communal or relational systems. Injustice has its day, but eventually gets toppled. When we try to rush the process with our swords, we end up becoming what we hate.

We also don’t need to overly defend or protect ourselves from critique. God is our fortress, tower, shield, and defender. The great irony is that when I live in the freedom of not worrying what might happen to me (gossip, violence, theft, you name it), those things don’t have any power over me. I trust that God will deal with them as he will, and when he will. Ultimately, the biblical narrative promises a final justice that will heal all wounds and restore all things. I can choose to take comfort in that.

Christ – at Christmas and at all times – comes to us asking for an exchange.
He wants our swords and shields, and offers us a cross and a towel.

I am offered a cross. An instrument of death and violence to myself. I am not expected to do what Jesus alone could do – atone for the sins of the world. I am invited, expected or even commanded to follow his way. To ‘take up my cross and follow’ him. To live sacrificially is not the way of self-loathing – constantly criticizing, punishing and judging myself. As the cliche truth goes, it’s not “thinking less of myself, but thinking of myself less.”

And this leads to the towel. I am to become a servant. Not a show off servant. Not “Hey everyone, I’m just going to pick up this piece of rubbish… aren’t I a great person….” Not “Hey everyone, look how pissed off I am about social injustice… I probably hate oppressors more than anyone I know…” Not this. Real service. Service that can go unnoticed. Uncelebrated.

The world is full of divided politics, communities, families and selves. If we’re honest, we’ll be able to see how we participate in wleding the sword of criticism, and raising the shield of self-justification.

The world needs more cross bearers and towel servants.

That is precisely what Jesus taught and modeled. It is his plan to bring his kingdom where needs are provided for, sinners are forgiven, and humans live in grateful peace.

justice with mercy

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Mercy must be joined by Justice & Justice must be married to Mercy.
Let’s consider, simply and briefly, what happens when they get disconnected.

Unjust Mercy & the Enabling of Injustice

Simply put, we enable injustice to continue when, in the name of ‘mercy’ we fail to critique, resist, prosecute, report, vote, petition, march, speak out, inquire about or act against an injustice. The oppressed are justified in resisting injustice, and allies are ethically bound to critique oppression. Ironically, more and better ‘standing against injustice’ is needed, even in a culture where ‘standing against injustice’ is trendy and can win you a reputation as a ‘good person’ who ‘hates injustice’. Yes allyship can be performative. But we need more allyship and better allyship.

Letting injustice go unpunished and uncritiqued in the name of ‘mercy’ is not merciful. It’s obviously not merciful to the oppressed. And less obviously, it’s not merciful to oppressors who are also harming themselves by harming others.

Merciless Justice & the Escalation of Injustice

Just as being ‘soft’ on injustice in the name of ‘mercy’ is not truly mercy; so also justice is distorted when we go beyond the truth or to abandon the facts. We do this when we go beyond critiquing an oppressor to demonising them or misrepresenting their injustice.

Performative allyship is again the culprit here. I, wanting to be seen as a ‘good person who hates injustice and protects the world from it’, take self-serving pleasure in declaring how bad ‘they’ are, leaving it obvious to everyone how righteous ‘I’ am. An oppressor can easily ignore such distortions, claiming that they are being misrepresented. Ironically, an oppressor usually feels victimized already, and such demonizing only adds to this, confirming their sense of victimhood. What’s more, when victims go beyond resistance and engage in retaliation or revenge, they unintentionally perpetuate a cycle of violence. The oppressed become oppressors. Justice becomes Injustice.

Just Mercy & the End of Injustice

Only when the persistent pursuit of justice is tempered by mercy is it truly effective. Instead of a ‘good person’ dethroning or locking up a ‘bad person’, everyone retains their human dignity. Justice means consequences – stepping down from leadership role, imprisonment, fines, reparation, whatever is ‘just’ for that situation – nothing less and nothing more. But justice must be merciful – avoiding excessively shaming labels, sticking to the facts and rightly scaling the actions committed.

When mercy is wedded to justice, everyone in the triangle (oppressor, oppressed, ally) is human. Not heinous (villain), helpless (victim) or heroic (ally), but human. And justice, after all, is for humans. It stands to reason that the actions we take to pursue it must therefore be humane.