Scott Freeman

It’s July 18, 64 AD and a fire breaks out in the Circus Maximus. Over the course of the next five days much of the city of Rome is devastated by the fire that rages (if the history, specious at best, holds out).

For many, the suspicion goes to their megalomaniacal emperor, Nero. His desire to seal his legacy is tied to his expansionist dreams for the Great City. Nero was obsessed with his popularity and the thought of being accused of such a crime was too much to bear.

Understandably, the Romans were devastated by the conflagration. Homes were consumed, lives snuffed out and livelihoods were compromised. Not only that but much of their religious life went up in flames.
Shrines, idols, temples were destroyed. There was only one group that did not suffer the loss of their religious identity–Christians. And because they were seen as being hostile to the empire and due to their close ties to the hated Jews Nero used them as a convenient scapegoat.
Persecution began as a result of Nero’s deflecting the suspicion onto this nascent sect.

In the midst of this period of Christian persecution (that saw the executions of both Peter and Paul) Peter wrote a letter of encouragement to those Gentile Christians who were living in fear of the sword. That message, 1 Peter, is a lesson in non-violent living.
Here we see the early church working out its practice of turning the other cheek, living in community and comporting themselves in such a way that even their enemies could see that they are different.

Peter’s Message: Live as Christ lived.

2:13–Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor (!) as supreme,
2:15–For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people
2:16–Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God.

And the money passage (1 Peter 2:19–25):
this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. 20 For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. 21 For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. 22 He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. 23 When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. 24 He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 25 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

For Peter it was imperative that these early believers did not live the way of the sword but by the way of the cross. The live and example of Jesus was normative for the believer in the early church. His example was that of non-violence, turning the other cheek, loving your enemy. Even a despotic tyrant such as Nero.

1 Peter is a manifesto for non-violent living. For the first pronounced persecution of Christians in world history was met without arms or retaliation. It was met with the very person of Christ.

As a staunch proponent of nonviolence, Martin Luther King, Jr. is one of my heroes of the faith. When so many people doubt the efficacy of nonviolent resistance and extol the virtues of “redemptive violence,” King’s legacy stands out as the epitome of nonviolent success.

In 1955 when E.D. Nixon suggested a young preacher to organize and lead the Montgomery Bus Boycott there was little reason to suspect that this man was anything more than a fiery and skilled homiletician.
Yet there was more, much more to Martin Luther King, Jr. He was a man of courage.
A man of conviction.
A man of peace.

He agreed to lead that boycott on one condition: that it be completely non-violent.
That, in itself, has to be seen as courageous. The human inclination would be to strike back physically.
But King went against the trend. He bucked the system.
He turned the other cheek.
For 381 days blacks in Montgomery boycotted the buses and Jim Crow itself. And they did it without violence.
Even when his house was bombed while his wife and child were inside. And even when the crowd that assembled outside his home that same night vowed retaliation he insisted on being peaceful.
At the risk of his own life he knew that true courage was found not in violence.
True courage was found not in retaliation or in raising the hand.
True courage, true greatness, was found in service.
In love and in peace.

His life was a testament to love, to believing in the innate goodness of man.
The Civil Rights Movement would not have experienced the success it did without his unbending commitment to nonviolence.

He showed that it worked.
Take a few moments today and read some quotes from this great American:

A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual doom.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies – or else? The chain reaction of evil – hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars – must be broken, or else we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.

It is not enough to say we must not wage war. It is necessary to love peace and sacrifice for it.

Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon. which cuts without wounding and ennobles the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals.

Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.

Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.

We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies.

I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of nuclear annihilation… I believe that even amid today’s mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow… I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed.

More recently I have come to see the need for the method of nonviolence in international relations. Although I was not yet convinced of its efficacy in conflicts between nations, I felt that while war could never be a positive good, it could serve as a negative good by preventing the spread and growth of an evil force. War, horrible as it is, might be preferable to surrender to a totalitarian system. But now I believe that the potential destructiveness of modern weapons totally rules out the possibility of war ever again achieving a negative good. If we assume that mankind has a right to survive then we must find an alternative to war and destruction. “Don’t ever let anyone pull you so low as to hate them. We must use the weapon of love. We must have the compassion and understanding for those who hate us. We must realize so many people are taught to hate us that they are not totally responsible for their hate. But we stand in life at midnight; we are always on the threshold of a new dawn.”

World peace through nonviolent means is neither absurd nor unattainable. All other methods have failed. Thus we must begin anew. Nonviolence is a good starting point. Those of us who believe in this method can be voices of reason, sanity, and understanding amid the voices of violence, hatred, and emotion. We can very well set a mood of peace out of which a system of peace can be built.

I am convinced that love is the most durable power in the world. It is not an expression of impractical idealism, but of practical realism. Far from being the pious injunction of a Utopian dreamer, love is an absolute necessity for the survival of our civilization. To return hate for hate does nothing but intensify the existence of evil in the universe. Someone must have sense enough and religion enough to cut off the chain of hate and evil, and this can only be done through love.

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction…. The chain reaction of evil — hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars — must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

And what is likely my favorite quote by Dr. King:

To our most bitter opponents we say: “We shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We shall meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will, and we shall continue to love you. We cannot in all good conscience obey your unjust laws because noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good. Throw us in jail and we shall still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and we shall still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our community at the midnight hour and beat us and leave us half dead, and we shall still love you. But be ye assured that we will wear you down by our capacity to suffer. One day we shall win freedom but not only for ourselves. We shall so appeal to your heart and conscience that we shall win you in the process and our victory will be a double victory.”

Thank you Dr. King for your legacy of love and nonviolence.

I am thinking about putting the nonviolence series to rest for a while. I’m not sure I want to abandon it completely. And I know that there are still issues to discuss and, yes, suss out.
But in moving toward a discussion of the nonviolence advocate and his relationship with the nation state (i.e. America) I’m not sure that a civil and productive discussion could be maintained.
On the way to church yesterday, I saw a guy riding a motorcycle, pulling a cross decorated to look like the United States flag. There are many reasons I find that offensive, but I’m not sure that these issues can be discussed in a positive manner in today’s climate.

With that said, I have a few thoughts.

1. Do we merely believe in Jesus or do we believe what Jesus believed? This question, posed by Clarence Baumer, has shaken me this past week. I’m good at professing a faith in Christ. But have I moved enough in my discipleship where I hold the same beliefs that Jesus did: that the meek will inherit the earth, that loving your enemies is the right way to treat them, that turning the other cheek is more effective than retaliation? I think if we are honest then we will find that there are truths that Jesus held dear that we don’t necessarily share. It’s a sobering thought, but Jesus didn’t operate according to logic, reason or earthly practicality. For us to adopt that belief system means more than merely imitation. It necessitates transformation.

2. “Just War” advocates and nonviolence proponents are not that far apart. Therefore we must work together to find ways to alleviate the amount of violence in this fallen world. David Augsburger, in his tremendous Anabaptist primer and Mere Discipleship companion piece, writes:

Those who teach just war ethics are not on the opposing side from those who teach nonviolence because both seek to limit the use of violence–the just war believers through a limited participation in war; the nonviolence disciples through constructive practices of peacemaking that, if followed, point toward the elimination of war. As friends we press one another to be more faithful to our goals, more consistent in our practices.

Although, I completely reject the notion of just war and militarism, that does not mean that I am unable to work with those who disagree with me toward the cessation of violence. I do not believe that the use of violence can be reconciled with the teachings of Jesus. I do not believe it is the way of Christ. However, I am in full fellowship with wonderful brothers and sisters who disagree sharply with me. Yet we are still children of God, saved by grace and grace alone. May we work together.

3. We must continually make sure that we do not conflate the missions of the Kingdom and America. The “America as Christian Nation” notion does not baptize all that we do regardless of the consequences. Clay Jenkinson, Theodore Roosevelt scholar-in-residence at Dickinson State University recently had a tremendous article in the Bismarck Tribune. Here is an excerpt:

Most Americans, then and now, do not share Jefferson’s and Paine’s distaste for the Bible or their antagonism to institutional religion. A solid majority of the Founding Fathers were Christians in some sense of the term. Some of them, like Patrick Henry, wanted an official established religion in each state. Most believed that religion was an important restraining mechanism in human affairs. Many of them, if we could lift them out of their context and into ours, would probably be distressed by the degree to which we have chosen to prohibit religious activity in the public square.

It is easy for religious conservatives to compile anthologies of pro-Christian sentiment from the founders’ writings, including – with a bit of disingenuous manipulation – from the works of Jefferson. There is room for an honest debate about what the founders intended, but any honest participant acknowledges that there is plenty of “evidence” on both sides of the argument. In other words, there is no definitive “intent of the Founding Fathers” on religious questions.

It is certain that the United States is a more religious country in 2006 than it was in 1806. For Jefferson, who declared in 1822 that “there is not a young man now living in the U.S. who will not die an Unitarian,” this would come as a surprise and something of a disappointment. Jefferson, like Paine, believed that science and reason would emancipate mankind from faith systems, and that at some future, but near, date, all people would admire, though not worship, the one universal deity.

If there were an unambiguous intent of the founders, there would be no special reason for us to follow their lead 219 years later. Their intent was to perpetuate slavery. Their intent was to count every five slaves as three for the purposes of apportionment and representation. Their intent was that senators would be elected by state legislatures. Their intent was that the Electoral College would sit in independent judgment about who was fittest to be president. Their intent was to exclude all women, almost all African-Americans, all Indians and white males without property from voting or holding public office.

We have discarded all these 18th century notions because they do not serve us well in the 21st century. Nor, in a nation with as much religious diversity as the United States, does it make any sense to force the 5.8 million Muslims, the 5.2 million Jews, the 1.5 million Buddhists, the 1 million Hindus, and the 433,267 Wiccans, pagans and Druids under one Christian tent. About this the First Amendment is very clear.

The government of the United States is overwhelmingly tolerant of the widest possible variety of religions and religious sensibilities. Nobody is legally punished for being a Mormon, a Christian Scientist, a British Israelist, a Mennonite, a Deuteronomist, a Scientologist or a member of a Native American peyote tradition. Members of each of these groups have held public office in the United States. We have no test oaths that prevent Catholics or Anabaptists from holding public office. A Catholic has been president. A Mormon (Gov. Mitt Romney of Massachusetts) plans to run for the presidency. Joe Lieberman, who is Jewish, nearly became vice president of the United States in 2000.

In this our happy and tolerant republic, tax exemption is afforded to individuals and groups whose religious views would be unrecognizable to the Founding Fathers, and deeply abhorrent.

The “wall of separation” between church and state works. We have the freethinking Founding Fathers, among them Tom Paine, to thank for that great gift to human freedom and diversity.

Any thoughts?

Due to time constraints this will be much more truncated then I would prefer, but hopefully we can explore this further as the comments progressed.

In early 2003 I taught a class at church that attempted to legitimatize our preemptive attack on Iraq by virtue of the Just War Theory. I have since repented of such a gross misapplication of Scripture.

If Constantine’s misuse of the Church was a dark page in our history then our adoption of the Just War Theory would comprise a full chapter. Before Augustine attempted to define the City of God there was no Christian author that attempted to make a case for Christians involved in warfare. For the first 400 years of the church there was no writing in support of war.

Walter Wink writes:

…when the church that had stood up nonviolently to the brutal repression of the Roman Empire found itself strangely victorious, it naively assumed the role of court chaplain to an empire eager for its support. It is as if Satan, unable to defeat the church by violence, surrendered to the church and became its ward. The price the church paid, however, was embracing violence as a means of preserving empire. But the removal of nonviolence from the gospel blasted the keystone from the arch, and Christianity collapsed into a religion of personal salvation in an afterlife jealously guarded by a wrathful and terrifying God–the whole system carefully managed by an elite corps of priests with direct backing from secular rulers now regarded as the elect agents of God’s working in history.

Despite the overwhelming testimony of the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, the example of the early church, the universal understanding of the early Christians of the nonviolent legacy of Jesus, once Christianity became the “sanctioned” religion of the State, the defense of the State at all costs was inevitable.
Enter the Just War Theory.

Just War Theory consists of these principles:

1. A just war can only be waged as a last resort. The argument is that all non-violent options must be exhausted before the use of force can be justified.

But how can we truly determine if ALL options have been explored? How many wars have been entered into after trying Jesus’ recommendation of overcoming evil with good? In my estimation, none.

2. A war is just only if it is waged by a legitimate authority. This is to proscribe any action taken by an individual or group.

But what constitutes legitimate authority? Isn’t Jesus the ultimate authority for the church and its stance on morality, loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us? Does the President or congress have veto powers over the admonitions of Christ?

3. A just war can only be fought to right a wrong. In other words we must have the right intentions in waging war.

But who argues for war on the platform that it is not just? Don’t all sides believe they are just and right in their stance? What wrongs are righted?

4. A war can only be just if it is fought with a reasonable chance of success. Deaths and injury incurred in a hopeless cause are not morally justifiable.

But how can we, as Christians, legitimately lend credence to this argument? What is success, killing more of their people than they kill of ours? What is success in war?

5. The ultimate goal of a just war is to re-establish peace. More specifically, the peace established after the war must be preferable to the peace that would have prevailed if the war had not been fought.

But it is impossible to determine if a greater peace can be established after we go into conflict. Violence does not beget peace.

6. The violence used in the war must be proportional to the injury suffered. States are prohibited from using force not necessary to attain the limited objective of addressing the injury suffered.

Wait, I know the basis for this one. I think it is called “An Eye for An Eye.” Right?

7. The weapons used in war must discriminate between combatants and non-combatants. Civilians are never permissible targets of war, and every effort must be taken to avoid killing civilians. The deaths of civilians are justified only if they are unavoidable victims of a deliberate attack on a military target.

What possible biblical basis can there be to “justify” spilling innocent blood? Modern warfare doesn’t discriminate between who is wearing a uniform and who is not. Is there a biblical justification for killing 3000 of “them” if they kill 3000 of “us?”

It’s interesting to note that Augustine had another criteria that stated that before you engage in killing, the Christian should repent of what he is about to do and then wear God’s love for the enemy into the battle. As if inner love can cancel out outward killing.

Another criteria of Augustine was that of humane treatment of prisoners of war and the honoring of international treaties and conventions. No commentary is needed here.

For the Christian these must be problematic. Our citizenship is in Heaven, Paul tells us. Our ultimate allegiance is to our King. We must tremble at the weight of taking another life, even under the auspices of a “just war.” As the church we answer a higher call. To quote Wink again:

…the church’s own witness should be understandable by the smallest child: we oppose violence in all its forms. And we do so because we reject domination. That means, the child will recognize, no abuse or beatings. That means, the woman will hear, no rape or violation or battering. That means, men will come to understand, no more male supremacy or war. That means, everyone will realize, no more degradation of the environment.

Ultimately “practical solutions” to “real-world problems” are embraced with regularity over the Kingdom viewpoint.

Ultimately, war is not just. Nor can it be. Christians must wrestle with the implications of embracing a doctrine that runs so counter to Scripture. We have been given a ministry of reconciliation. May the church forever endeavor to be agents of peace in a war torn world.

Here is hoping you all had a safe and peaceful thanksgiving. My commitment to nonviolence was threatened only when tempted to cold-cock an LSU fan. But that’s a different story.

I have ceased numbering my nonviolent entries. The further along we go I fear the rising number of posts on this subject might discourage new readers.

The early church was wholeheartedly committed to nonviolence. Their understanding of the life, example and teachings of Jesus led them live peaceable lives and to eschew the taking up of the sword. For those of us who have grown up in a society and culture where war is hardwired into our collective psyche, that is hard for us to comprehend.

Yet, that is the example of the early church: the way of the cross rather than the sword.

That changed when Christianity began the shift from an underground movement to the Church of the Empire in 313. The Edict of Milan made Christianity a legal and recognized religion in Roman culture.

There are far greater recounts of Constantine’s impact on Christianity (or better, Christendom) than I can provide in this space. However, allow me to make a few observations about this shift and its implications:

1. The blame does not lie singly upon Constantine. Yes, he had a highly perverted view of the cross. He used the message of Jesus for his own blood-thirsty needs. However, the church had suffered these types before. False teachers and manipulators of the gospel are woven through the Pauline epistles. The difference? Power. Both for an emperor seeking to solidify his reign and expand his reach. And power for a church that had long been oppressed and marginalized.

2. Christianity, to Constantine, was tactical. There is no indication, outside of a death-bed conversion, that Constantine viewed the way of Christ as being anything other than a means to an end. Persecuting Christians was a failed policy that needed to be revised and amended. The church was still thriving. A way to solidify any power base is to appeal to the burgeoning groups. His personal life and his bloodthirsty methods belie any Christian commitment.

3. Constantine bought the church. By paying the priests Constantine assured that allegiance between the Kingdom and the nation-state would be put to the greatest test. A test that the church, ultimately, would fail again and again. We still fail this often, today.

4. Constantine made military service compulsory for the priests. Until this time, Christians had largely refused military service. It would be just a few years later that only Christians could serve in the Roman military. Thus begins the melding of Christian duty and military service.

Howard Goeringer made a fascinating parallel between the life of Constantine and the great missionary, Paul:

–After his vision, Constantine continued killing, even his own family. After his vision, Paul laid down the sword.
–To Constantine, the cross was the way to victory in battle. To Paul, the cross was the way to reconciliation with enemies.
–Constantine spent his life wielding power. Paul spent his life proclaiming Christ’s power.
–Constantine founded a city named after himself. Paul founded churches in honor of Christ.
–Paul was baptized immediately signifying his conversion. Constantine waited until his dying day.
–Constantine used the church for his own evil purposes. Paul served the church.

This underscores how Christendom was totally unrecognizable in the face of what the church was called to be: nonviolent, conciliatory, lovers of enemies.

But the way of the nation-state is selfish, it seeks its own gains and interests. That is antithetical to the way of the cross.

Goeringer states:

To be violently coercive and lovingly Christ-like at the same time is impossible. The power Constantine represents corrupts. It does not cleanse. The nature of coercive power that forces persons to yield to another’s will is evil, not only in dictatorships, but in every form of human government, including democratic republics whose legal, judicial, legislative, and military systems, are also based on coercive and dominative power inherent in every nation-state. When the state speaks, Jesus is silenced. The name “Jesus” is never mentioned when matters of state are discussed. The state’s “God in general” is popular, but “Jesus in particular”, never. The God in which the state trusts is a catch-all God who is used to support the political rhetoric of the moment. The fatal flaw in the Constantinian compromise is the illusion that the nature of God revealed in Jesus is compatible with the nature of the state that they they coalesce and become one in mission to the glory of God. They cannot. As human history shows, they do not.

Constantine thought that he could use the power of Christianity to suit his own purposes. What he failed to realize is that the power of Christianity is never through manipulation, coercion, violence or force. The power of Christianity is never contained through a nation-state. The power of Christianity is not political in nature.

Instead the power of Christianity is found in the basin and the towel, the silent prayer of an anguished saint, the loving embrace of a fallen traveler, the compassionate reconciliation of aliens and strangers. The power of Christianity is not in a worldly structure but in a Kingdom. A Kingdom not made with flesh and blood. A Kingdom not made with swords, but with a cross.

The way of peace.

It is undeniable that the early church was unswervingly nonviolent. Their initial interpretation of the words and life of Jesus was such that they bore the brunt of the sword without retaliation.

They were less concerned with the practicality of nonviolence and much more concerned with their faithfulness to The Way. To live and respond as the early church did to the oppression and terrorism that they experienced was not rational.

It was faith. It’s what prompted the reformed Christian killer to write in Ephesians 2:14

For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility

Christ was peace among them. He had reshaped, re-created and transformed them into people of peace: people who lived the way of the cross and not the sword. They knew that Jesus had not saved them from physical death, but had rescued them from eternal death redeeming them from the spectre of fear.

And this message of hope and reconciliation was intended for all people. No longer were the children of God to be defined by nationality, ethnicity or belief. ALL were invited to come. The gentile was no longer the enemy, he was the co-heir of God’s eternal promise.

As Paul wrote in Colossians 1:19–20: For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.

The early Christians were renowned for being peaceful. The second century letter to Diognetus had this to say about those early disciples (emphasis mine):

They pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven. They obey the prescribed laws, and at the same time surpass the laws by their lives. They love all men, and are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death, and restored to life. They are poor, yet make many rich; they are in lack of all things, and yet abound in all; they are dishonoured, and yet in their very dishonour are glorified. They are evil spoken of, and yet are justified; they are reviled, and bless; they are insulted, and repay the insult with honour; they do good, yet are punished as evil-doers. When punished, they rejoice as if quickened into life; they are assailed by the Jews as foreigners, and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them are unable to assign any reason for their hatred.

That’s who they were. They were marked not by the nations of this world but by a Kingdom that was not from this world. They were less concerned with “reality” and “practicality” and more concerned with faithful witness. They endured persecution and martyrdom for the sake of the cross.

Will Durant wrote:

There is no greater drama in human record than the sight of a few Christians, scorned and oppressed by a succession of emperors, bearing all trials with a fierce tenacity, multiplying quietly, building order while their enemies generated chaos, fighting the sword with the word, brutality with hope, and at last defeating the strongest state that history has known. Caesar and Christ had met in the arena, and Christ had won.

Do you see that? The message of Christ was propagated not by the sword, but by the cross. They were not trying to Christianize the world. They were offering a different world altogether. They were not seeking for a Christian nation-state. They were living the Kingdom come.

The agenda for the church today is to do just that: not to Christianize the world but to offer a different world, where there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, American or Iranian.
But if we make the Kingdom a political objective then the Kingdom is lost. It is not of this world and was never meant to be.

If we truly long to be a restoration movement then we have to take into account the life of the early church. Origen, who lived in the late second and early third centuries, wrote “for we no longer take up sword against nation, nor do we learn war any more, having become children of peace, for the sake of Jesus.”

For almost 285 years the early church resisted war and violence. Ignatius called for warfare to be abolished. The only way that could be done, he stated, was to embrace the teachings of Christ. There were exceptions as some Christians “behaved like Gentiles.” But the way of the early church was that of peace.

Read this stirring passage by Lawrence Apsey:

The Roman Empire during the first three centuries of Christianity equaled modern dictatorships in ruthlessness, paganism and violence. Nevertheless, during this period, Christianity, by its witness of love and sacrifice, grew from a tiny Jewish sect to become a religion professed by the majority in the most populous areas of mankind. In the words of K.S. Latourette, a leading historian of the period, ‘Never in so short a time has any other religious faith or, for that matter, any other set of ideas, religious, political or economic, without the aid of physical force or of social or cultural prestige, achieved so commanding a position in such an important culture.’
During this period, Christians refused service in the army; and there is no direct evidence that they ever used force against the bloodthirsty persecutions to which they were subjected. While paying lip servie to the mythology of the ancients, most people in the Empire at the time of Jesus recognized no responsibility to a divine power beyond themselves, and their rulers spared no cruelty in the ten major persecutions which were launched against the Christians. Under Nero, Christians were torn by dogs or nailed to crosses and set on fire to serve at night as living torches. Under Valerian, the death penalty was enforced for meeting in church and entering cemetaries. Christian leaders were exiled for not doing homage to the pagan gods. Clerics were put to death, others deprived of property, enslaved or burned at the stake. Christians were happy, without resistance by force, to share the martyrdom of Jesus; and this had a tremendous effect in converting those who witnessed their suffering.

If we have any claims or interest in being a part of a restoration movement, then the legacy of nonviolence that the early church left behind cannot be dismissed out of hand. No matter how distasteful or untenable we might find nonviolence to be, the example is there.
Those who were just a few short years removed from the life, words, teachings and example of Jesus interpreted that life as a prescription for a nonviolent life.

It wasn’t until Christianity was co-opted that that changed.

This is not officially an entry in the series but is more of a question open for discussion. I’m still wrestling with the correct way to proceed with this series. Right now I’m mired in a study of the historical examples of the efficacy of nonviolence. My goal is to create a readable entry on how it has been tried and proven effective throughout time.

However, one of the things that has been borne out for me, both in our discussions here and on the landscape of American society is what our obligation is to preserve Christianity, or at least our understanding of what it should be.

My question is this: how concerned must we be with our rights as Christians in our society? Is one of our fundamental responsibilities as God-followers to preserve liberty, freedom to worship and societal morality?

If so, if we are to be tireless campaigners for moral legislation, then why didn’t Jesus and the early disciples do just that? Why didn’t they migrate to Rome and rail against the moral bankruptcy of THAT great world power? Why are the writings of Paul addressed to churches and individuals and not to influential leaders that could have shaped a more conciliatory relationship between the state and the church?

The early church grew from a smattering of somewhat confused disciples to the greatest movement the world has ever seen. And they did it without political involvement, without violence, without campaigning and an unwavering belief that there movement would somehow collapse if Rome wasn’t transformed. They disregarded restrictive laws against their message and continued on despite the consequences. They were more concerned with perpetuation than preservation?

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that the moral climate of America is not important. Of course it is. My question is how important is it? If American outlawed Christianity tomorrow (an outlandish proposition, for we have yet to experience any true persecution in this country) would Christianity be thwarted? Or would we find out, as history attests, that Christianity flourishes as a minority? That it has its greatest successes under extreme persecution? And wouldn’t we be better served by understanding that it is in the way we live that truly matters more than the referendums and initiatives we support?

Where do our concerns and interest need to lie primarily? In defending “our way of life” or in living as a body of believers undeterred by the fallen powers of this world? Are we called to stand for righteousness or stoop and serve in a broken world?
Do we need to be more concerned about our rights or the rights of the lost? What is our objective?

Again, don’t misunderstand me: I’m not saying its wrong to be interested in our moral climate. I’m just wondering how crucial that is to the propagation of Christianity. I don’t have a defined answer here and am legitimately asking for a (civil) discussion.

What is our mission: the preservation and protection of our rights or the tireless pursuit of holiness even to the sacrifice of our rights?

I have three daughters. 5, 3 and 1. It’s important that you add 1/2 behind each of those ages. I’m a little bit fond of each of them and find them securely and permanently twisted around my heart.
This summer my oldest, Chloe, played basketball in our local YMCA league. Neither one of her parents are blessed with any tremendous athletic ability. But she loved it. I loved seeing her play each week, as well. Up to a point.
She just wanted to have fun. And make a basket, which she finally did the last game of the season. However, it was a mixed league and the boys on her team were decidely better than she was. As the season wore on, they became less willing to throw the ball to Chloe.
I fumed on the sideline. And when I saw one father actually encouraging his son to keep the ball from my daughter I nearly exploded. I wanted to slap the smug look off of that guy’s face.
“Oh, raising an alpha male? That’s something to be proud of.”
I tell this story in order to say this at the outset: I’m not good at this scenario.
I can be just as bad as the stone-cold killer in my heart. My anger gets away from me quickly when I see my children neglected, dismissed or maltreated.

However, that does not negate the need for nonviolence. My human response does not offset the Divine Ideal.
Scripture is clear: the way of Christ is not violent. He humbled Himself and died when He could have wiped us all out.
But, invariably, whenever sincere and well-meaning people begin to discuss the prospect of leading nonviolent lives someone will bring up the scenario:

What if someone attacks your family. What if a crazed psychopath breaks in and threatens their life? Would you just stand by and watch your family be killed?

The intent of this scenario is to discredit those who adhere to and believe that nonviolence is truly the way of Christ. But it’s nothing more than a strawman. It does not adequately deal with the dilemma of non-violence.

Most of the time it ends in a stalemate with the question never being truly addressed.

Let me answer here: if someone broke into my house and threatened my family I hope that I would do all that I could to ensure their safety. I also hope that all that I would attempt would be honoring to Christ and consistent with how He has shown me to live. But that is part of the problem. And the problems are many:

1. I don’t know what I would do because I have never been in that situation. I hope I wouldn’t be a coward and hide under the bed. But I don’t know.
2. I don’t know what the attacker will do. The scenario presupposes everything up until my reaction. But it fails to take into account any other possibility.
3. It also presupposes that the avenue to respond in violence is available to me. If a gun-wielding or knife-toting bad man appears in my home I’m probably not going to be able to produce much in the way of retaliatory devices outside of my fists and a couch cushion.
4. The scenario lacks creativity. The bad man is going to kill your family and it all hinges on your response. But:
a. If you had a gun (however, if you are non-violent you probably aren’t gonna be packing) could you shoot the weapon out of his hand rather than shoot to kill?
b. If you are nonviolent you probably aren’t that good with a gun so you might hurt someone you don’t intend to. You have to take that into consideration as well.
c. But let’s say I can get to a knife in time. I do have those in the kitchen. Will I be able to run into the kitchen unimpeded, fetch said knife and return in time to start slashing?

The bottom line is that this is an extreme hypothetical and I do not know what I would do in such a situation. And no one does until they are in such a predicament.

Some additional observations:

1. What is our ultimate role with our families? Is it to protect or instill? If it is to protect in all situations then God is not the ultimate example, for He allowed His own son to die. I’m not saying that protection is not important. Of course, it is. But I could have punched out the basketball dad because I thought my daughter was being slighted. But protecting her interests in that case was not the ultimate end. Teaching her patience and turning the other cheek was far more important. What message is taught if our first inclination is to “shoot to kill” the intruder?
2. The scenario is decidedly patriarchal. Call it the “Wild At Heart” effect.
3. I will defend my family if it is needed but I hope that my reactions will continue to be nonviolent.
4. If violence is the only acceptable response in this scenario then violence becomes the ultimate good in this scenario. That is hard to square.
5. What needs to happen is training in the way of Christ to the point that rather than immediately presupposing that violence is the one acceptable solution to this scenario that, when faced with such a predicament our immediate response is toward peaceful reconciliation. This scenario is proposed not because violence is the ultimate answer but because we have failed in creatively sussing out the possibilities of truly living the nonviolent life.

In summation, I don’t know what I would do in such situations. But here is my greatest hope: that I would automatically seek out the best responses that would protect my family and be an example of Christ. I would hope that I would value each life in the scenario including the attacker. I would hope that, as I stand between my family and potential mayhem, the Spirit of God would enable me to respond in a godly and appropriate manner.
If, however, I responded in a violent manner, I would throw myself on the unchanging and unwavering grace of God.

I’ll leave it at that for now. Thoughts?

I’ve been asked how long I am going to continue this series and why I’m doing it. It’s obvious that the amount of discussion that fueled the initial posts has died down considerably.
But that is not why I am doing this.
Suffice it to say, I may continue a while longer.
As to why, I’m not completely sure. Part of it is the desire to have an avenue to discuss in a civil manner with people who hold different views. I think we have continued to do just that.
Also, I want to share my study on these lines. Who knows, this may be a book proposal or a dissertation some day.
However, I have not shared everything I would like. In my mind it breaks down somewhat like this:

I. What is non-violence?
II. The Scriptural basis for non-violence
a. The Words of Jesus
b. The Temple Incident
c. The Life of Jesus
d. Reconciling war in the Hebrew Scriptures
e. Nonviolence in the Epistles (I realize I have not covered this, but have skipped this for now)
f. Nonviolence and the Apocalypse
III. Nonviolence and the Christian Life
a. Self-abnegation
b. Anger
c. Fear
d. The Fruits of the Spirit (I haven’t covered this either, but they all presuppose nonviolence)
IV. Problems with Nonviolence
a. Protecting Your Family
b. The War on Terror
c. Peacekeeping Forces and Military Involvement
d. Nonviolent Victories in World War II
V. Conclusions
a. Nonviolence Victories in History
b. The Lion and the Lamb: Militarists and Pacifists Living, Loving, Worshipping and serving together.
c. Where Do We Go From Here?

Next, I am going to move into Part 4. How do we be nonviolent when there are these perceived problems with nonviolence.
The objections that honest and sincere people have with nonviolence cannot be discredited or dismissed. Let’s look at those.

Before we move into that does anyone have any thoughts? Any additions to this outline you would like to see?
What would you like to see develop in this discussion?

In the mid-morning hours of September 11th, 2001, before the anger welled up within us and took root in the national psyche, we experienced a communal wave of fear.
Who did this to us?
How could this happen on our soil?
Why would anyone want to harm us in this way?

The uncertainty was palpable as gas lines extended for blocks and parents checked their children out of school early in order to gather and protect against any localized aftershocks.

This understandable wave of fear would soon permeate many aspects of our lives. Duct-tape became more than a handy household item. It would soon pair with plastic sheeting to provide the duo that would innoculate us from any air-borne pathogens that would serve as the follow-up to the first wave of attacks.
We were afraid even to go to the mailbox.
That fear would manifest itself in the political forum as candidates stirred those pangs of anxiety that indicated that the pressing of the wrong button in the voting booth would be a harbinger of the apocalypse.
I shared in that fear. I held my newborn daughter especially close in those days. I wept over the prospect of the Jericho-style world that she might be brought up in.
And as I clutched her in my fear, I lost perspective of what the true lesson was.

Fear can be a good thing. It is not in and of itself evil. It is one of the strongest emotions that God has given us.
It keeps up a few paces away from the side of the cliff. It prompts us to ease up on the gas pedal.
It can be good. But it can also be abused.
And in our society, fear is the ultimate motivator to take up violence as the premier method for “standing up.”
But to be consummed or controlled by fear is dangerous.
And it is sin.

It is sin because it exhibits a lack of faith in God and is expressely forbidden by Him (Matthew 6:25–34)

You see, for the Child of God there is no reason to fear. God instructs us some 365 times in Scripture to not be afraid (one for every day of the year).
He is ultimately in control. To fear is to cast His sovereignty in doubt.
Fear negatively manifests itself when we place our emphasis on the wrong day: tomorrow. All that He has given us is this day. And it has enough worries of its own.

But fear is so prevalent. Our existence is so tenuous. It is easy to succumb to worry and anxiety about tomorrow.
–This time will it be a school close to me that endures a gun-wielding madman?
–Will there be another attack on this nation, this time closer to home?
–What will happen to my children if terrorism is not eradicated?

Yet, ultimately, those are not the proper questions that we are to be asking. Those questions are rooted in an earthly focus that sequesters hope to an exclusively intangible concept. The important questions are (cribbing from Paul):
–If God is for us, who can be against us? (Nobody)
–Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? (Again, nobody)
–Who is to condemn? (Once more, nobody)
–Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? (Say it with me, “nobody.”)
–Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? (That’s a resounding no.)

You see, all of the suicide bombers, biotoxins, apocalyptic scenarios and Paris Hilton movies cannot rob us of a hope that passes all understanding.
It will not change the ending of the story for those who are in Christ.
There is no need for us to respond violently to those who set themselves against us. The outcome is assured.
“No weapon formed against us shall prosper, all that shall rise up against us shall fall. I will not fear what the devil may bring me, I am a servant of God.”

Earthly empires will rise and fall, but the Kingdom is eternal.
Don’t be afraid of tomorrow. Live today.
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I could go on and on about different virtues (or, Fruits of the Spirit) that, properly nurtured will lead to a non-violent life. But, I think that the point has been made repeatedly that nonviolence is the ideal.
Next week we will move into all of the different what-ifs that people offer as a supposed refutation of nonviolence and how those scenarios, ultimately, are lacking.