NOT JUST A COMMAND…?
Biblical justice is not a command to obey; it’s an identity to embrace.
This is not to say that it was not commanded, because indeed it was—many times in fact (Exod 23:6-9; Lev 19:9-10; Deut 15:7-15; Micah 6:8; etc.)—with God even punishing those ignoring acts of mercy (e.g., Amos 2:6-8; 5:21-24). From these texts, and the plethora of others like them, we can at the very least say: God highly values acts of justice and mercy.
Take Isaiah 1 as an example. After identifying the rebellious southern kingdom as “evildoers” as debased as Sodom and Gomorrah (Isa 1:4, 9-10), the prophet launches into a litany of Israel’s liturgical practices prompting divine repulsion: displeasure with sacrifices (1:11), “meaningless offerings” (1:12), detestable incense (1:13a), “worthless assemblies” (1:13b), and loathsome festivals (1:14). Ominously, verse 15 concludes: “When you offer many prayers, I am not listening: Your hands are full of blood!”[1]
This dramatic text climaxes in verses 16-17, revealing simultaneously the infraction and the path to redemption: “Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”
AND THEN THERE WAS LIGHT…
It would be easy to transform this text into a simple ‘command-consequence’ formula, in which God gives a command, his people violate the command, and the consequence of judgment follows thereafter. This conclusion, however, misunderstands not only biblical justice but God’s activity in and toward creation since Genesis 1—wherein mankind, both “male and female,” were created in the image of God (Gen 1:26-27). Persistently, God reveals to (and through) creation what essentially exists beyond creation: namely, God himself.
Whether the text is Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac (Gen 22:1-18), Moses’s divine encounter at the burning bush (Exod 3:1-22), David’s hymnic epiphanies (Psa 22:3-5, 10-31; 23:1-6; 24:1-10), or Ezekiel’s rapturous theophanies (Ezek 1:1-28; 37:1-14), God intends more than mere mediation of mandates. He endeavors to reveal. To disclose. To unveil. To break the boundaries imposed by Genesis 3 that separates understanding and interaction with the Trinity who created us not out of necessity but out of a single will and nature imbued with colors of love only vaguely seen in a creation harnessed with the bondage of decay (Rom 8:20-21).
From prophets to plagues to promises, God painstakingly reveals himself to his creation ensnared in a spiral of death and darkness, ignorant of his glorious light.
COMMAND AS REVELATION
Indeed, the context of Isaiah 1 is not one of mere infraction or simply a violation of rules, but inexplicable ignorance of who “the LORD your God” (Exod 20:2-3) actually is. Isaiah 1:2-3 begins, “I reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me. The ox knows its master…but Israel does not know—my people do not understand.”
If Israel knew who God was, then how could they neglect the “cause of the fatherless”? How could they ignore “the case of the widow”? Or the plight of the oppressed? If Israel knew who God was, then how could they, like Cain, come to worship with hands tainted with the blood of the innocent?
Their actions betray that, in spite of all God’s efforts (e.g., judges, law, prophets, etc.), Israel simply does not know who God is. Inasmuch as the commands are enacted, God’s identity is reflected in humanity. Disobedience, however, betrays two equally troublesome possibilities: ignorance of God’s identity or rebellion against it. The acts of justice in Isaiah 1:16-17, therefore, flows from, is rooted in, and is an elucidation of God’s identity that his people, apparently, do not know.
Biblical justice, therefore, is not an issue of obeying but becoming; not a command but an identity; not a choice but an incarnation.
REVELATION THROUGH INCARNATION
Genesis 3 will not have a single victory. Not one.
Leading up to the first century, this assertion was anything but certain. Between Malachi and Matthew, a synthesis of exile and order gave rise to a tumultuous period of history leavened with longing and promises only partially fulfilled as silence seemed to saturate the prophetic terrain. Confusion, however, was replaced with revelation.
As foretold through Isaiah: “‘The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel,’ which means ‘God with us’” (Matt 1:23). Through the infinitely begotten Son, the radiance of God’s ineffable glory (Heb 1:3; Col 1:15) becomes flesh and dwells among us (John 1:14), so that “displayed in the face of Christ” (2 Cor 4:6) is “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24b) that fulfills the law and the prophets (Matt 5:17) and, as an act of grace, exegetes God for us (John 1:18; John 14:6-9).
This being true, and in light of the Old Testament references above, it should come as no surprise when we find acts of justice and mercy as central components in the Son’s ministry of divine revelation.
REDEMPTION OF THE SOUL
Proof-texting the importance of justice and mercy in the ministry of Jesus, although tempting, merely proffers competing proof-texts ostensibly off-setting any passage, however poignant. Instead, the goal of the incarnation, including but not limited to acts of justice and mercy, is readily apparent through the word study of sōzō, commonly translated “save.”
Through angelic herald, Joseph is told that Mary “will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save (sōzō) the lost” (Matt 1:21)—that is, redeem souls from their sins. Similarly, in Luke 19:10, after the calling of Zacchaeus, Jesus exclaims, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save (sōzō) the lost.” Thus, on one level, sōzō indicates the eradication of the injustice of Eden, when humanity and God were separated by the sin of Adam, rehearsed by all generations thereafter (Rom 3:22b-23), yet remedied in Christ (see also Luke 7:48, 50; John 3:17; Acts 2:21; Rom 10:9; 1 Cor 9:22; Eph 2:5, 8; 1 Tim 1:15; James 2:14; Jude 23).
Nevertheless, this aspect of sōzō does not exhaust its definition, for Genesis 3 did not merely effect the spiritual but—as is evident in sickness, natural disasters, wars, famines, pain, sin, and death, to name a few—the Fall impacts the physical as well. And, as stated above, Genesis 3 will not have a single victory. Not one.
RESTORATION OF THE BODY
In Mark 5:30, as a large crowd “pressed around” Jesus (5:24), he asks the peculiar question: “Who touched my clothes?” Answer: ‘Lots of people!’ (5:31) But Jesus searched intently, “looking around to see who had done it” (5:32), not knowing the culprit was a desperate woman “who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years” (5:25). After spending all of her hope and money on doctors unable to cure her physical ailment (5:26), she fought through the shifting crevasses of the crowd looking for the hem of Jesus’ robe, because she believed “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed (sōzō)” (5:28; cf. Matt 9:21). Caught, the woman abased herself, trembling with fear, at the feet of Jesus (5:33). Gentle, as a father with his child, Jesus affirmed: “Daughter, your faith has healed (sōzō) you” (5:34; cf. Luke 8:48). Incredibly, as Matthew 9:22 adds, “the woman was healed (sōzō) at that moment.”
Similarly, the healing of the blind (Mk 10:52; Lk 18:42), the deliverance of the demon-possessed (Lk 8:36), and the restoration of the leper (Lk 17:19) are all designated with the word sōzō. Thus, the word sōzō also indicates the eradication of the injustice of Eden, when decay and death descended upon humanity through the sin of Adam, evident in the pain and disease in all generations thereafter (Rom 8:20-22), yet remedied in Christ, at times in the ‘now’ but completely in the ‘not yet’ (see also Matt 8:25; Mk 6:56; Acts 4:9; 14:9; James 5:15; Jude 5).
SETTING THE WRONGS RIGHT
Thus, sōzō is used indiscriminately by the Gospels to describe the restoration of all that is broken, both body and soul, and powerfully summarizes the incarnation as a declaration of war on Genesis 3. Jesus came to completely overturn the curse and all that it ensnared. Jesus came to set all the wrongs right, to restore all that was broken—body and soul. Jesus came to save the lost, to cure the sick, to redeem the wayward, to restore the impaired, to give light to those grasping in darkness, and to give life to those imprisoned in the miserable clutches of death’s decay.
Jesus came to sōzō. And our ministry should be no different.
Indeed, the divine incarnation was the complete revelation of God’s identity to humanity. Yet, it was not only divine disclosure to be received passively by those who comprehend it. For those with eyes to see and ears to hear, the incarnation is also the exposition of true humanity living in the image of God.
In other words, through the power of the Spirit, the incarnation is who we are to become: the body of Christ.
THE CURSE OF A BLESSING
In Matthew 25:31-46, a startling scene unfolds as the “Son of Man comes in his glory” (25:31) and divides the nations (25:32): “the sheep on his right and the goats on his left” (25:33). Unavoidably, acts of justice and mercy move to the foreground as those on the King’s right receive their blessed inheritance (25:34): “For I was hungry and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” (25:35-36). The same list is invoked in verses 42-43 but with the opposite outcome—for those on the King’s left neglected these acts of mercy and are invited to “depart” (25:41a) instead of “come” (25:34a), receiving a ‘curse’ (25:41b) instead of a ‘blessing’ (25:34a).
Some wield this text as a weapon on a misguided crusade in defense of biblical justice, arguing that, given the context of judgment, this passage is a clear command to Christians to do acts of mercy…or else.
This simply misses the point.
On the other extreme, some label this text a contagion to avoid thereby bypassing a direct confrontation with biblical justice, arguing that, given the word study for “brother” in Matthew, this passage is only describing acts of mercy for Christians…no one else.
This too simply misses the point.
SURPRISE IN CHRIST
The poignancy of the passage is found in this simple truth: both groups are surprised. “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” (25:37-39; cf. 25:44)
Both the sheep and the goats are surprised!
The surprise of the goats is somewhat understandable—their omission has led to their condemnation. You can almost hear them saying: ‘But…but we didn’t know? You didn’t tell us it was you! If we knew you wanted this, we would have done it! We just didn’t know…’
But as Isaiah 1 has already demonstrated above, they are not ignorant of a command but of God’s very identity. Surprised? Maybe—yet not justified given God’s persistent revelation of his identity in the law and the prophets and, now, in the Son of Man.
But, more to the point, why are the sheep surprised? Why do the sheep react with a catalogue of “when did we” statements? Why are the sheep confused that their acts of mercy merit blessing at all? Why do they respond as if their acts of justice do not deserve praise or even a remotely laudatory response from the King of mercy?
Answer: Because their acts of justice and mercy are simply a natural outworking of their identity. As Christians, it’s just what they do. For them, acts of justice and mercy are as common as breathing. It’s just who they are—in Christ.
THE BODY OF CHRIST
If we are the body of Christ (1 Cor 12:27; Eph 4:12-15; 5:23), then we should look like Jesus, both individually and collectively—our words and actions reflecting his.
Thus, biblical justice is not a command to obey, but an identity to embrace; an identity with an irreversible aversion to all that Genesis 3 accomplished; an identity that stops at nothing to, like Christ, restore all that was broken, even if it means being broken ourselves; an identity that celebrates being created in the image of God by reflecting the “image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15) when he became flesh and dwelled among us (John 1:14).
Thus, biblical justice is a performance of scripture. It’s not something you do in Christ; it’s something you are in Christ. As Paul claims, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20).
Biblical justice is not a command; it’s an incarnation. As 1 John 2:6 reminds, “Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did.”
[1] Unless stated otherwise, all scripture citations are taken from the NIV 2011 version (with minor corrections).