Over the past few days, I’ve shared my thoughts regarding a controversy that has generated no shortage of opinions.
Some have agreed.
Others have strongly disagreed.
That’s okay.
I’ve said what I believe Scripture requires me to say, and I don’t intend to continue debating it.
But as I’ve reflected on the discussion, my thoughts have drifted toward something much bigger.
Perspective.
Jesus never promised His followers an easy road.
In fact, He promised the opposite.
“If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you.” (John 15:18)
“You will be hated by all for My name’s sake.” (Matthew 10:22)
When I read the New Testament, I don’t find men demanding respect.
I find men enduring suffering.
Peter was beaten, imprisoned, and according to Josephus, crucified upside down.
Paul was imprisoned, stoned, shipwrecked, falsely accused, and ultimately executed.
James gave his life.
John was exiled.
The early church didn’t spend its energy debating whether someone had crossed a street.
They were crossing prison thresholds.
They weren’t arguing over insults.
They were burying martyrs.
Around our world today, many Christians gather in secret because public worship could cost them their freedom—or their lives.
Pastors are imprisoned.
Churches are burned.
Believers are beaten.
Some are killed simply because they refuse to deny the name of Jesus.
When I step back and consider that reality, I’m reminded how blessed we are.
And I’m reminded how careful we should be.
Because the true battle has never been about protecting our pride.
It has always been about remaining faithful to Christ.
The apostles didn’t conquer the world because they were willing to throw punches.
They conquered it because they were willing to carry crosses.
The Kingdom of God has never advanced through personal retaliation.
It has advanced through sacrificial love, steadfast conviction, unwavering faithfulness, and countless believers who chose obedience over self-preservation.
Because we follow a Savior who conquered the world, not by calling down twelve legions of angels, but by stretching out His hands on a cross.
He possessed all authority in heaven and on earth.
He could have summoned angels.
He could have silenced His accusers.
He could have destroyed those who mocked Him.
Instead, He endured.
He forgave.
He overcame evil with good.
That’s the perspective that makes Romans 12 make sense.
Without the cross, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” sounds impractical.
In light of the cross, it becomes the defining characteristic of Christian discipleship.
If I am to call myself a follower of Christ, then His response—not my emotions, not public opinion, not culture, and not even my own sense of justice—must remain my highest standard.
Whether someone agrees or disagrees with my conclusions about a particular event isn’t nearly as important as this:
When history remembers the Church of our generation, will it remember us for defending ourselves…
…or for faithfully representing Christ?
That’s the question I’ll continue asking myself long after this controversy has faded from the headlines.
Leave a comment