8

GOOD CITIZENS

WE, OUR, US

“So you’re against our military!” protested Tom.1

“No,” I said, “I wouldn’t say that I’m against the military, but against militarism—putting faith in military might. And I also don’t think the Bible sanctions violence to achieve the goals of God’s kingdom.”

“You don’t support our troops, then. Right?” Tom responded.

“Well, it depends on what you mean by that, and it depends on why each person is serving as a soldier. If someone said he became a soldier so that he could kill Arabs, then no, I wouldn’t support that troop.”

“No,” Tom said, “I wouldn’t either. But what about the ones who are sacrificing themselves for our country?”

“In many ways, Tom, I’d say that I’m actually in support of these troops. I admire their commitment and their desire to sacrifice on behalf of others. I appreciate the dedication it takes to make it in the military. Most of all, they are created in God’s image and therefore possess infinite worth in the eyes of their Creator. But this doesn’t mean that I have to be okay with violence, nor with the larger ideology that drives a military to wage war. I admire many things about soldiers, but not their decision to use violence.”

“But what about our religious freedom?” Tom replied. “Our troops are sacrificing their lives so that you can have your freedom! In fact,” Tom continued rather passionately, “your freedom of speech that allows you to have this very conversation is made possible because of our troops!”

Both Tom and I are Christians and share similar views on many things. But Tom and I disagree on how we should view America’s military. For Tom, the military has its problems, but by and large it’s the reason for much peace, democracy, and freedom in the world. For the most part, America’s military fights for causes that are morally upright. And if it wasn’t for our military, the world would be ruled by evil dictators and oppressive regimes.

“Yes, you are correct,” I said. “The military does, in part, enable citizens of America to have religious freedom. But plenty of countries that don’t have the same freedom, such as China, have a thriving Christian presence. Obviously God doesn’t need religious freedom to expand His kingdom.”

“Well, if it weren’t for our military,” Tom countered, “we wouldn’t have such economic prosperity. We wouldn’t be able to own houses, guns, cars, or even go to church. If our troops don’t fight, other countries who are jealous of our freedom would take us over.”

As you listen to Tom and me converse, you are probably either in agreement with Tom, or you are frustrated with the assumptions that Tom is bringing to the table. For now, I want to point out that the most important words in this conversation are we, our, and us.

It’s fascinating how often citizens of God’s kingdom use the plural pronoun (we/our/us) to describe their citizenship in the earthly nation where they were born. “Our troops,” “our freedom,” “our military.” There’s actually a measure of truth in Tom’s point, but we must take out the plural pronouns to find it. “We”—if you’re a Christian—first and foremost refers to our membership in God’s kingdom, not our national identity. Passports are irrelevant in God’s kingdom.

CITIZENS OF THE KING

Paul confronts Tom’s use of the plural pronoun in his letter to the Philippians. The idea that “our citizenship is in heaven” is well-known, and it comes from Philippians 3:20. Interestingly, Paul coins this phrase in stark contrast to a believer’s national citizenship. Paul never uses the plural pronoun to describe his Roman citizenship, and he discourages believers from doing the same. To see this, we have to back up a bit and look at the history of Philippi.

Philippi played a significant role in the history of the Roman Empire. It was founded by the Greeks but taken over by Rome in 168 BC. A hundred years later, the environs of the city became the scene for several important battles in the famous civil wars of Rome, which involved Julius Caesar and Brutus versus Octavian and Mark Antony. Octavian (later called Augustus) and Antony won, and they richly awarded the city of Philippi for its help. The reward? Roman citizenship. While only 10 percent of people living in the empire enjoyed Roman citizenship, the entire city of Philippi was awarded this prestigious honor. What is more, Octavian chose Philippi to be a city where Roman military veterans could settle down after they’d served. Armed with citizenship and military zeal, Philippi would bubble over with patriotic fervor.2

But allegiance to Jesus’s kingdom often clashes with all earthly ones, and the Philippians feel the tension. This is why Paul commands them, “Live out your citizenship [polistheuamai] in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ” (Phil. 1:27, author’s translation). Some translations interpret this command as “walk in a manner worthy” rather than “live out your citizenship in a manner worthy,” but the Greek word polistheuamai does not simply mean “walk” or “live” but has to do with citizenship.3 Even if you don’t know Greek, you can probably tell that the word polistheuamai has something to do with politics. The word contains the root polis, which means “city” and gives us words like politics and metropolis. Polistheuamai is a verb, so it means something like “act like a citizen,” “be a good citizen,” or “live out your citizenship” as I translated it above.

But notice what Paul is doing here. He does not encourage the believers at Philippi to be good citizens of Rome, but to live out their citizenship in allegiance to Jesus. Many in the church probably have Roman citizenship. They are tempted to find their pride and identity in Rome instead of in God’s kingdom. In the same way, it’s tempting for American Christians to find their pride and identity in American citizenship rather than in their heavenly one. Such allegiance to Rome (or America) makes good sense to the world but finds no support in the New Testament. Tom’s use of the plural pronoun would have been incomprehensible to Paul—or Jesus.

Later on when Paul reminds the believers that their “citizenship is in heaven,” you can hear a faint whisper of “and not in Rome.” He’s steering their patriotism away from Rome and toward Jesus.

Now, the New Testament is clear that we should honor, submit to, and pray for our governing authorities. We can celebrate the distinct culture of our country, promote the good that our nation achieves, and “seek the welfare of the city” where God has “sent you into exile” (Jer. 29:7). But always remember that you’re in exile. To be in exile means that you are displaced from your native land. You’re a pilgrim, a foreigner, a resident with a foreign passport. Our identity—that which marks us out as a distinct people—is with God’s kingdom, not Caesar’s. Allegiance to Rome (or Iraq, or Argentina, or America, or Canada) becomes idolatrous when national identity is prioritized over our heavenly one. And when the values of our earthly citizenship conflict with Jesus’s, as they sometimes do, we must give our allegiance to our Lord even if it means being unpatriotic toward Rome.

TWO KINGDOMS, SAME VOCABULARY

Citizenship in God’s kingdom demands undiluted allegiance. This became especially difficult for early Christians because both kingdoms—God’s and Rome’s—used the same vocabulary to describe their politics. Let me explain. As Christians, we are very familiar with terms like gospel, Lord, Savior, peace, and other “Christianese” buzzwords—words that our secular culture doesn’t always understand. But in the first century, these terms were not unique to Christianity. They were also used by Rome to refer to its own king and kingdom. We saw this when Jesus used the term kingdom (or empire) in His trial before Pilate. But this is only the beginning.

Two common titles used for the Roman emperor were lord (kurios) and savior (soter). And since the emperors were viewed as divine, they were also called son of god or in some cases just plain god. These divine lords were believed to have brought unprecedented peace to the world, which they referred to in Latin as the Pax Romana, or “peace of Rome.” Rome was known for securing such peace and justice through warfare. And whenever Roman leaders returned home from another military victory, heralds were sent throughout the empire to announce the gospel—the good news—that Rome had been victorious.4

Lord, savior, son of god, god, peace, justice, and gospel. These were all familiar terms used to praise the Caesars of Rome. When Christians stole these titles and applied them to a Jew who was crucified as a revolutionary, they were bound to start a fight—especially in a patriotic city like Philippi. Roman military vets, who had sacrificed for the peace of Rome, would be particularly offended.

When Paul hails Jesus as Lord and Savior, we need to hear a faint first-century echo: Caesar is not.

Such contrast between Jesus and Caesar is seen clearly in Acts 17, when Paul heralds the gospel of Jesus in Thessalonica, a town not far from Philippi. Paul’s message creates quite an uproar in the city. Not because the people are offended at the thought of a new religion, but because they understand the good news about Jesus as a direct critique of the good news of Caesar Nero. “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also,” the crowd shouts out in protest. “They are all acting against the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus” (Acts 17:6–7). If Paul was merely preaching about a privatized religious experience, the authorities wouldn’t bat an eye. But Paul announces that Jesus is Lord and Savior. And this means that Caesar is not.

Let’s head back to the town of Philippi, because a similar situation must have erupted there as well. We know that the Philippians are under persecution, since Paul alludes to this throughout his letter.5 As Paul heralds King Jesus in Phillipi, he gets into trouble with the authorities as he did in Thessalonica.6 And now the Philippian believers find themselves in a similar situation. Imagine that in a town like Philippi, where the Roman flag waves high and stories of military victories are swapped in the streets, there’s a small group of people who believe that a crucified Jew, rather than Nero, is the true Lord, Savior, and bringer of good news, justice, and peace.

I can almost hear these Christians dealing with the same critique Tom lobbed at me: “The only reason you’re able to say such things is because our soldiers fought and died for your freedom!”

So Paul tells these believers to hold strong. Stand firm. Give your allegiance to Jesus despite the criticism and suffering it may bring.7 To challenge them, Paul points them to the cross of Jesus in Philippians 2:5–11, where he lays out one of the most theologically rich and counter-patriotic claims about Christ. Suffering, Paul says—against all forms of Roman ideology, human intuition, or military might—is the pathway to power and glory:

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Read this passage against the backdrop of Roman ideology.8 Rome embedded in the hearts of its citizens a thick narrative of power, pride, and unparalleled military might. True pax comes through the military of Romana—the hope of the world. Don’t you forget it! But the way of the cross slashes the narrative of Rome. Knowing that the Philippians are suffering, Paul points them to their true Caesar, Jesus Christ, who suffered on a cross—the ultimate symbol of Roman power and military might. Paul plumbs the depths of paradox when he claims that the most vulgar, shameful, obvious sign of weakness (suffering on a Roman cross) was the means through which Jesus was highly exalted. While Caesar Nero is revered as the exalted lord of the earth, Paul daringly wrenches the crown from Nero and places it where it belongs. On Jesus.

Philippians underscores the counter-patriotic claims of the gospel of Jesus. For the church to turn the world upside down, as it did in Thessalonica, it must promote Jesus’s lordship—His reign—where weakness is power and cruciform suffering leads to glory.

CRUCIFORM SUFFERING

I love the phrase “cruciform suffering,” which means “cross-shaped suffering,” because it gives theological meat to suffering. Jesus’s cross and resurrection infuse suffering with value and hope—hope that Jesus-following sufferers will be raised from the dead; hope that God will judge the wicked and reward the righteous; hope that believes Jesus triumphed over evil through suffering and invited us to join Him in victory. This is what I mean by “cruciform suffering”: suffering that embraces the journey Jesus took to Calvary, who “continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Pet. 2:23).

That last phrase is from 1 Peter—a letter saturated with cruciform suffering. First Peter is similar to Philippians. The churches addressed in both letters are struggling with their identity. How can they live out their heavenly citizenship when Rome is breathing down their necks by demanding allegiance to Caesar? Peter makes the same point Paul does: God’s people give their allegiance to the Lord Jesus. And when this conflicts with their allegiance to Caesar—as it often does—the choice is simple. Obey God and not people.

From beginning to end, Peter tries to pry the church’s gaze away from its earthly kingdom and onto the Lord Jesus. Peter refers to the church as “exiles,” sojourners and aliens living in a strange land.9 We are “a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession” (1 Pet. 2:9). All of these images underwrite Jesus’s claim that His kingdom is not of this world. And the most visible form of Jesus’s not-of-this-world kingdom is the radical, head-turning love of one’s enemies, even (or especially) when we are suffering at their hands. Peter mentions this cruciform enemy-love no fewer than ten times in five chapters, making it the artery of the letter.

Peter commands the church sojourning in Rome’s kingdom to “honor everyone,” endure while suffering, revile no one when reviled, never “repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling” but bless your reviler. If you want to be like Jesus, Peter says, then you need to live as Jesus lived. You need to turn from evil, do good, seek peace and pursue it vigorously. To those who attack you verbally, respond with gentleness and respect.10 To those who attack you physically, respond as Christ responded to His attackers (1 Pet. 2:20–22). Peter even uses military language ironically to speak of the believer’s posture of weakness, not might: “arm yourselves” with the sufferings of Christ (4:1); abstain from sinful passions that “wage war against your soul” (2:11)—passions such as retaliation. The entire letter of 1 Peter gives sustained attention to what Paul says in Philippians 2. The church is to follow Jesus in His posture of weakness and suffering, because this is the pathway to glory.

Cruciform suffering takes center stage in 1 Peter 2. We looked at this passage briefly in the previous chapter, but it’s worth another read:

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. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. 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. (vv. 21–23)

If it weren’t for Jesus, no one would ever live this way. Jesus was attacked, beaten, and unjustly accused, but He didn’t retaliate. Jesus, of course, had to die to atone for sin. But remember, His innocent suffering is also given as an example, and nowhere is this clearer than here in 1 Peter 2. When we are reviled and suffer unjustly, our posture should reflect Jesus. There’s no need to return evil for evil, or violence for violence, since in the end God will vindicate us and judge our enemy. God—not our ability to avenge—deserves our trust.

Such trust in the Sovereign God is Peter’s hallmark of suffering. “Let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good” (1 Pet. 4:19). And again: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you” (5:6). The cruciform life, according to Peter, means that we imitate Jesus’s nonviolent, enemy-loving posture, because ultimately His triumph is ours. “After you have suffered a little while,” Peter concludes, God will “restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (v. 10).

Peter has the Sermon on the Mount ingrained in his soul. And so does Paul. In Romans 12, Paul also quotes from the Sermon and stresses nonretaliation and enemy-love. After exhorting the church to “not be conformed to this world” (think: “my kingdom is not of this world”), Paul fills in what this means. “Abhor what is evil” (v. 9), “bless those who persecute you” (v. 14), “repay no one evil for evil” (v. 17), “live peaceably with all [people]” (v. 18), never seek vengeance (v. 19), love your enemy, and do good to those who hate you (v. 20). Put simply: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (v. 21). Paul’s litany of commands comes fast and furious in Romans 12, and most of it has the scent of Jesus’s Sermon. As with Jesus, nonviolent love is anything but passive. Rather, it is counter-culturally active in forgiving, honoring, blessing, and meeting the physical needs of those who can’t stand you. As with Peter, the reason why Christians don’t need to settle all wrongs in this world is that we are confident God will do so in the next. “Never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord’” (v. 19). Our faith in the Sovereign Judge precludes any need to offer our enemies anything but cruciform love.

Cruciform love for our enemies—this is what it means to have the mind of Christ according to Philippians 2:5–11. Jesus became a servant to die for and at the hands of His enemies. We don’t just serve the deserving but the undeserving. This is what it means to be a Christian: to follow Jesus, to live like Jesus, to have a mind like Jesus. Having the mind of Christ means embracing others—especially our enemies—in humble, reconciling, forgiving love. It means never giving up on them even when they are putting us to death.11 Paul doesn’t leave any wiggle room. He doesn’t say, “Have this mind among yourselves until it gets too hard” or “until your enemy becomes particularly violent.” Jesus’s enemies were plenty violent (ever studied crucifixion?), and yet He was “obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). I know, this sounds foolish, if not scandalous. Paul thinks so too (1 Cor. 1:18, 23).

Loving your enemy. Doing good things for evil people. Never taking vengeance. Responding to violence with nonviolent love—even if it brings suffering. These are not options, but the primary character traits of those who claim to follow a crucified God.

WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?

In the last chapter, I said that the New Testament highlights Jesus’s nonviolent response to violence as a pattern to follow more than any other aspect of His ministry. We’ve already seen that Paul in Romans 12 draws heavily on Jesus’s nonretaliation commands in the Sermon on the Mount and instructs believers in Philippians 2 to have the cruciform mind of Christ. Peter also makes enemy-love the ethical heartbeat of his first epistle. Elsewhere, Paul prohibits Christians from repaying “anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone” (1 Thess. 5:15).

The author of Hebrews commends the church for “joyfully accept[ing] the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one” (Heb. 10:34). The motivation for enduring such suffering is Jesus’s cross, where He “endured from sinners such hostility against himself,” which according to Hebrews provides an example for believers to follow (12:1–3). Believers are to “strive for peace with everyone” (12:14)—not just their neighbors. The apostles, therefore, frequently appeal to Jesus’s nonresistant journey to the cross as a model to emulate.

Let’s put this in perspective. Paul celebrates the gift of celibacy, arguing that a celibate person can be hugely effective for the kingdom (1 Cor. 7). But Paul does not use Jesus’s celibate life as an example to follow. He doesn’t play the “what would Jesus do” card. Paul says that he could refrain from working and be supported by the ministry (9:6–12), but again he doesn’t appeal to Jesus, who did the same (Luke 8:1–3). Also, Jesus was a man of prayer and often stole away time to pray, and yet Paul—in all his talk on prayer—never appeals to Jesus as a model for praying. This is fascinating: the “what would Jesus do” cliché is rarely echoed by the New Testament writers.

Rarely but not never. Because when it comes to enemy-love and our response to evil, the New Testament writers race to the life and teaching of Christ as the pattern for believers to imitate.12

The New Testament is ubiquitously clear: don’t retaliate with evil for evil; do good to those who hate you; embrace your enemy with a cross-shaped, unyielding divine love. Such a rich and pervasive trajectory—from Jesus’s Sermon, modeled through His life, commended to His disciples, taken up by the apostles, and demanded of the early church—shows that nonretaliation and enemy-love are not some insignificant whisper lingering on the edge of Jesus’s ethical landscape. They are fundamental identity markers for citizens of God’s kingdom. If there are exceptions to this—assassinating Hitler, for instance—these exceptions must be seen as deviating from the dominant rhythm of Christianity.

JESUS’S WAR

Jesus is still at war, but it’s a spiritual one. Paul uses warfare imagery on several occasions, and when he does, he contrasts physical weapons of warfare with spiritual weapons.13 For instance, in 2 Corinthians 10 he says:

We are human, but we don’t wage war as humans do. We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments. We destroy every proud obstacle that keeps people from knowing God. We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ. (vv. 3–5 NLT)

Paul hijacks military vocabulary and turns it on its head. He says that physical weapons of warfare—swords and spears, tanks and drones—are not “God’s mighty weapons” to tear down the works of Satan. Prayer, suffering, enemy-love, and the proclamation of the true gospel (not Caesar’s) will do more to tear down the works of Satan than ten thousand nuclear warheads. We are to join Jesus in His war, His spiritual war, and our weapons are not worldly like Rome’s. Our weapons are divine.

Paul says the same thing in Ephesians 6:

A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.

Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm. (vv. 10–13 NLT)

Neither this passage nor the previous one can be taken to condemn all forms of violence. Not in themselves, at least. But what they do is elevate the methods of Jesus in conquering evil and downplay the worldly ways of fighting the Enemy. Again, Paul says that the true battle is not against Iran, North Korea, or al-Qaeda, but against the satanic forces working behind the scenes. We are not to war against human enemies, only spiritual ones. In fact, we are to love our human enemies.

When we buy into the American narrative that focuses on “flesh-and-blood enemies,” we are spraying the tip of the flames, not the source of the fire. America could nuke the entire Middle East, and Satan would walk away untouched. China or Iran could conquer America, and God’s kingdom wouldn’t feel a thing. As long as we pray, love, suffer, and herald the good news that Jesus is King, we will continue to see the kingdom of God thunder against the kingdom of Satan. We need to make sure we’re fighting in the right war with the right means.

Jesus never acted violently. He never allowed His followers to act violently. Whenever violence is held out as an option for Christians, it’s always forbidden. Jesus’s nonretaliatory, sacrificial love for His enemies—more than any other aspect of His life and ministry—provided His followers with a definitive identity marker of what it meant to follow God. Suffering love: it’s not easy, but it is essential.

WHAT ROMANS 13 REALLY MEANS

“But what about Romans 13?” In talking to various people about this book, the question about Romans 13 was usually the first thing that came up. In fact, I recently presented the idea behind this book to a roomful of pastor-scholars, all of whom had PhDs in theology. Unanimously, they all wanted to know how Christian nonviolence squares with Romans 13.

It’s fascinating (one might say disturbing) to see how each person’s political context or position shapes his or her understanding of Romans 13. Christians living in North Korea or Burma tend to read Romans 13 differently than Americans do. Moreover, Adolf Hitler, Idi Amin, and other more recent “Christian” dictators have celebrated the passage as their divine ticket to execute justice on whomever they deemed enemies of the state. Not more than a generation ago, Romans 13 was hailed as the charter for apartheid in South Africa. American Christian leaders did the same during the years of slavery and segregation. If the state mandates that blacks can’t drink from the same water fountain as whites, it very well has the divine right to do so, according to certain interpretations Romans 13.

Most now would see such a view of Romans 13 as going a bit too far. But only a bit. Theologian and scholar Wayne Grudem, for instance, says that the “sword in the hand of good government is God’s designated weapon to defeat evildoers” and goes on to apply this to America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.14 The assumption, of course, is that America is the good government and that Iraq and Afghanistan are the bad governments. Maybe they are, but who gets to determine who is good and who is bad? Were it flipped around and Romans 13 was used to validate Afghanistan’s invasion of America as punishment for horrific drone strikes on civilians or wholesale slaughter of women and children in, for instance, southern Kandahar or Haditha, most Americans would see this as a misreading of Romans 13.

Even though Romans 13 has been taken to celebrate violence, praise the government, or vindicate the just war tradition, there is nothing in this passage that contradicts what I’ve said thus far. Here’s why.

First, Romans 13 does not speak of Rome’s warfare policy against foreign nations, but of its police and judicial action toward its own citizens.15 Paul’s phrase “bear the sword” (v. 4) refers to police action within a government’s jurisdiction, not warfare outside its territory. Using this text to support, for instance, America’s war in Iraq goes beyond what Paul is actually saying. Romans 13 doesn’t authorize a nation to police the world, let alone wage preemptive strikes against nations it considers a threat.

Second, the passage does not tell the church to “obey” governing authorities but to “submit to” such authorities.16 Now, submission sometimes involves obedience, and obedience sometimes involves submission. There’s an overlap in meaning. But it’s important to note that Paul does not use one of the typical Greek words for “obey” here.17 He deliberately uses the term submit. The difference is that Christians “obey” the law of Christ. They receive their moral marching orders from their King. And insofar as the laws of the state don’t conflict with the law of Christ, they obey. But Christians do so out of allegiance to God, not out of an uncritical allegiance to the state. Don’t revolt against the government, in other words. Honor it; pray for it; work for its good; pay the taxes that it demands.18 New Testament scholar Paul Jewett said it well: “Submission to the governmental authorities is therefore an expression of respect not for the authorities themselves but for the crucified deity who stands behind them.”19

Third, Paul’s statement reflects a widespread truth in the Old Testament about God working through secular nations to carry out His will. For instance, the Old Testament calls many political figures “God’s servant,” such as Cyrus, king of Persia (Isa. 44–45); Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon (Jer. 27:6; 43:10); and the ruthlessly wicked nation of Assyria (Isa. 10:5), which God calls the “club of my wrath” and the “rod of my anger.”20 Please note: Cyrus and Nebuchadnezzar were pagan dictators. The phrase “God’s servant,” therefore, doesn’t refer to Rome’s happy service to Israel’s God, but to God’s ability to use Rome as an instrument in His hands. You can probably see where I’m going with this. Just because God uses secular—and sometimes quite evil—institutions to carry out His will does not mean that God approves of everything they do. Much of what they do—whether it be Assyria’s sadistic practice of skinning civilians alive, or Rome’s crucifixion of thousands of people in the first century—does not reflect the law of Christ. But God can still use such godlessness, because He channels evil to carry out His will.21 This doesn’t mean that He approves of the evil itself. In fact, all those who are ministers of God’s wrath become the objects of God’s wrath themselves precisely because of their violence when they were the “rod” of His anger.22 If you want to serve as God’s agent of wrath, well, you better watch your back when God’s through with you.

Fourth, Romans 13 says that God uses governments to punish evildoers and reward the good. But what does this mean? Does every government always justly punish evil and reward good? Yeah, right. Rome was the same government that beheaded John the Baptist, beat Paul on several occasions, and crucified an innocent Jew named Jesus. In fact, just a few years after Paul penned Romans 13, Caesar Nero dipped Christians in tar, lit them on fire, and set them up as human illumination for his garden, all in the name of keeping peace. Romans 13 can’t be a rubber stamp on all of Rome’s attempts at punishing evil. Paul doesn’t write Rome, or America, a blank check to do whatever it wants to do in the name of justice.

Paul’s statement that Rome is “God’s servant for your good” and “an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer” must mean that God can and does work justice through governments but that not everything governments do can be labeled just. Romans 13 does not sanitize all governing activities. Flip through Revelation 13 and 17–18 to see that the New Testament actually condemns much of what the government does.

The final point is the most significant. If you miss this point, then you won’t understand what Paul is saying to the church in Romans 13. Paul says that God executes vengeance through Rome after he prohibits Christians from doing so. Compare these two statements, which are only a few verses apart:

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” (12:19)

For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out the God’s wrath on the wrongdoer. (13:4)

Paul says that God’s wrath and vengeance are carried out through Rome, and he has just commanded the church not to carry out such wrath and vengeance. Vengeance is God’s business, not ours. We don’t need to avenge evil, because God will. And one way that God will is through governing authorities. Moreover, the command to submit to governing authorities in Romans 13:1 is the last of Paul’s litany of commands in Romans 12:9–21.23 Bless those who persecute you, love your enemy, don’t avenge evil, and submit to your governing authorities. Far from allowing Christians to kill in war, Romans 13 underscores the church’s submissive posture in a violent world.

Romans 13 cannot be used to foster a militaristic spirit among Christians. Quite the opposite.

ONE KINGDOM UNDER GOD

“So are you saying,” Tom said, “that Christians can’t serve in the military?”

“Tom, that’s a good question. In fact, Christians who advocate for nonviolence are divided over this issue. Some say yes, while others say no. My own answer is that Christians can pursue all vocations to further the kingdom, but they must obey their King no matter what. No vocation or earthly cause should trump our allegiance to King Jesus.”

“So you don’t think Christians should serve in the military,” replied Tom.

“Actually, I think they can. But I don’t think that Christians can serve as combatants in situations where they would be required to kill. I just can’t reconcile this with what Jesus and the apostles said about violence in the New Testament. However, I do think Christians can serve in the military as agents of peace, healing, and reconciliation. They can serve as noncombatants.”

Tom interjected, “But Romans 13 says that God ordained governments to bear the sword and punish evildoers. If God rightly uses governments to bear the sword, and Christians can serve in just governments, then it only makes sense that they could bear the sword.”

“That’s a great observation,” I replied. “However, Romans 13 is focused on police action within a country’s jurisdiction, not waging war outside its territory. Moreover, in the context of Paul’s argument, he doesn’t seem to envision Christians in this role. Paul prohibited Christians from executing vengeance in Romans 12, but then said that God executes vengeance through the state in Romans 13. In other words, Paul explicitly forbids the church in Romans 12 from doing what the government does in Romans 13. The church is only commanded to submit to (not partake in) the state’s practice.”

“That seems like a double standard to me,” Tom replied. “You’ll let the state do your dirty work but are too holy to do it yourself.”

“Well, it may seem like that, Tom, but I’m only trying to make sense of what Paul actually says in Romans 12 and 13. And I should say that even though Paul doesn’t explicitly envision Christians to be part of the sword-bearing role in Romans 13, there are other passages in the New Testament where we do see Christians in that role. And they are not told to immediately leave it.”

“So,” Tom said, “you don’t think that Romans 13 allows Christians to bear the sword, but other passages do?”

“Perhaps,” I replied. “But in all vocations, believers must obey Christ.”

“Yes,” Tom agreed. “I’m with you there.”

I continued, “So a Christian lawyer must be honest.”

“Absolutely,” Tom said.

“And a Christian filmmaker isn’t allowed to lust,” I said.

“Of course,” agreed Tom.

“So with all vocations,” I continued, “Christians must be obedient to their Lord.”

Then Tom tossed up the question—the question that has thrown advocates for nonviolence for a loop for as long as the debate has been raging. “Can a Christian be a cop?”

“Tom, that has been one of the most difficult questions for Christians who deal with the issue of violence. We’d better grab some coffee and hash this out.”

NOTES

1. “Tom” is a composite character made up from many different people with whom I’ve talked about these issues.

2. For the background of Philippi, see Gordon Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (NICNT) (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995).

3. Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, 161–62.

4. There are many good books that discuss the Roman imperial background to the New Testament. For a recent overview, see Scot McKnight, Joseph B. Modica, and Andy Crouch (eds.), Jesus Is Lord, Caesar Is Not (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2013).

5. E.g., Phil. 1:28–30; 3:18–19

6. Acts 16:19–24, 35–40; cf. Phil. 1:28–30

7. Phil. 2:12–18; cf. 2:25–30

8. See N. T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993), 56–98.

9. 1 Pet. 1:1; 2:11

10. 1 Pet. 3:15; 4:14

11. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34; cf. Acts 7:60).

12. The same point has been made by John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 112–131.

13. See Tremper Longman III and Daniel G. Reid, God Is a Warrior (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1995).

14. Wayne Grudem, Politics—According to the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 403.

15. Roman police officers were often referred to as “sword bearers” (Egypt; Philo Special Laws, 2.92–95; 3.159–63), cited in Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (NICNT) (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), 802. By extension, bearing the sword could refer to Rome’s military putting down a revolt within the empire. The sword may include the idea of capital punishment, as it does in Acts 12:2. But in this context, it probably refers more generally to God using the government to punish wrongdoing.

16. The Greek word is hupotassesthai (“to submit”). This word occurs throughout the Old Testament (LXX), and in only one case is obedience the main idea (Dan. 6:13, Theodotion’s Greek version). The New Testament uses the term thirty times, and in most cases, obedience is not the main idea (C. E. B. Cranfield, Romans 9–16 [New York: T&T Clark, 2004], 660–63). Submission is used to describe the posture of the younger toward an elder (1 Pet. 5:5), a wife toward her husband (Eph. 5:22; Col. 3:18), a slave toward his master (1 Pet. 2:18), Christians toward their leaders (1 Cor. 16:16), and other situations where the one doing the submitting occupies a lesser place of authority (not value).

17. The New Testament has three Greek words that are used for “obedience” (peitharkein, peithesthai, and upakouein), none of which Paul uses here (see Cranfield, Romans 9–16, 660–63). However, see Titus 3:1.

18. The concern Paul has for Christians to pay taxes is a concern that they won’t revolt against Rome (Romans 13:2—the verb for “resist” here is antitasso, which means “to range in battle against”). The reason Paul and Jesus command Christians to pay taxes isn’t because we support the state. Rather, it’s because not paying taxes is a direct act of war and revolution (think: “No Taxation without Representation” and the Boston Tea Party) especially in the first-century context (e.g., Josephus, Wars of the Jews, 2.8.1 or Antiquities of the Jews, 18.1.6).

19. Robert Jewett, Eldon Jay Epp, and Roy David Kotansky, Romans (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2007), 790.

20. See too Prov. 8:15–16. The book of Daniel makes the same point (Dan. 2:21, 37–38; 4:17, 25, 32; 5:21; 8:11).

21. Gen. 50:20; Judg. 14:4

22. E.g., Isa. 10:7–19; Hab. 2:8, 10, 12, 17

23. There’s no transition in Rom. 13:1.