We tend to think in boxes of mutual exclusivity; and it makes sense, when you think about how inundated with binary limitations we are. One of the many areas where two vital values are becoming polarized in our current culture is the role of social justice and Christianity. Justice and faith are being pitted against each other, as if one could exist without the other, and camps have formed of people arguing over which comes first. Even if we could eliminate politics from our stances on social justice and the church, we would still be left with a great tension between non-religious activists and Christians who never leave the pews. God sees every facet of our wrestle with theodicy, Jesus saw it when He walked this earth, and He showed us His answer. As His followers, we can’t afford to separate our beliefs and words from our actions and how we live. Not only are we able to be both activists and evangelists, advocates and preachers—but we should be.
We serve a just God; His very throne is founded in justice, and He is faithful in recompense.[1] We serve a merciful God; the proof is in the Lamb that He sent to be slain for us while we were undeserving. Along the narrow road of truth, we must beware the ditches on either side whispering that a witness of Jesus can be given with one and not the other.
By preaching the Gospel without meeting physical needs and advocating for those who hear it, we imply that half of the Bible matters more than the other half. It communicates that human life is worthy of dignity in eternity, but not now. Our Messiah walked through broken lands healing the sick, raising the lame, feeding the hungry. The miracles He performed were a witness to His message, and we can see His compassion running through every interaction He had. Will we ask the needy to listen to a sermon but leave them starving and enslaved? Can they even hear us over bombs and riots and shootings? Will we tell them we know where to find freedom and then leave their bodies in chains? Jesus fed the crowds and told them to repent.[2] Mercy, and then justice; both right there, emanating beautifully from the same story at the same time. Social justice and evangelism were never mutually exclusive to Him.
In contrast, social justice without the hope of the Gospel is empty because it’s ephemeral. Must we not believe in the eternal value of human life to advocate for the oppressed? Why should we fight for humanity if we have no moral compass telling us that how we treat each other here will echo in eternity? To tell to a slave they deserve freedom, we must explain that they are made in the image of God, who created all His children equal. Without our anchor in Christ, not only can we not offer hope beyond the temporary solutions, but we are blind to think we can dispense true justice without the One who created it. Instead, we quickly grow dark from immersing ourselves in the horrors of this world without the One who atones them. Our hero complex shrivels, and we subject ourselves to bitterness and cynicism. We will never be anyone’s savior, but someone has to be. We must remember we are not the Righteous Judge, nor the source of mercy that never runs out. Without lasting reason for dispensing justice, the hand from which it passes is as empty as the hand that receives it.
These polarized boxes cause us to subconsciously think of justice and mercy as pitted against each other. We think it’s simple: justice for the oppressor, mercy for the oppressed. If not for Jesus, this way would make sense. But when God sent His Son for all sinners, He showed us that both justice and mercy are for both the oppressors and the oppressed. For all have sinned and fall short, all are needy of His righteous judgment and His scandalous grace. God invites us into the duality of this grand, epic, messy story in which He breaks down all our boxes. He is not bound by the limitations of this world’s rules, and so neither are we.
The word of God never comes back void, His words are backed by His actions. He came into a hurting world, not be served but to serve, and His service took many forms. He preached the good news in deed and in speech, living what He spoke of with every step He took. Dispensing justice is a vehicle to sharing the Gospel, not a replacement for it. When we encounter the undeniable power in the truth of what Jesus did through His death and resurrection, we see that it is the greatest changing agent amidst the darkness of humankind. When our wickedness is met by God’s mercy and we come to know His son, injustice starts to dissipate. The seed of sin being crushed by the Gospel is the most catalytic prevention of injustice we could ever partake in. When oppressors meet Jesus, we should no longer have to spend ourselves fighting for their victims.
We are to do justice and love mercy—a proactive commandment. [3] Out of the mouth of Jesus came “if you love me, tend my sheep”[4] and “what you did unto the least of these, you did unto me.”[5] This is the one who was prophesied to “bring good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, open the prison to those who are bound”—all prophecies He fulfilled.[6] So when the same man says “the poor will always be among you,” He cannot simply mean that caring for them is a waste of time. He said this to the crowd that scoffed at Mary of Bethany for pouring out her prize at the feet of Jesus instead of using her resources to help the poor. The rest of His sentence was, “whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me.”[7] It would have been a shame for her to give her most valuable possession to the poor when Jesus Himself was sitting in front of her, and would not always be with them in the flesh. In other words, it’s only a waste to spend our lives on behalf of the needy if we overlook the Messiah. This is why Jesus defended her, and said to “remember her throughout the earth whenever the Gospel is preached.” Because she did what many of us would’ve failed to do if we had been in room: keep the main thing at the center. It is not because we’re so charitable or philanthropic that we advocate for the oppressed, care for the poor, and defend the marginalized. It is not because we have unending love for humanity that we give ourselves for their needs even when they spit in our faces. It is because we have the very blood of the Advocate running through our veins, as children of the Most High God.
The Gospel without justice and mercy is sedentary. Justice and mercy without the Gospel are desolate. Without His blood, our works are barren. But with it, our reach will spread throughout the earth, even beyond His—just as He promised. [8]
Autumn Crew is the Managing Editor of FAI Publishing. She lives in the Middle East and serves a number of disciple-making initiatives. She can be reached at autumncrew@faimission.org.
[1] Psalm 89:14, Isaiah 61:8
[2] Mark 6:34-42
[3] Micah 6:8
[4] John 21:16,
[5] Matthew 25:35-40
[6] Isaiah 61:1, Luke 4
[7] Mark 14:3-9
[8] John 14:12-14