The third in a series exploring the idol-toppling question, “What don’t you like about your faith?” Read the first installment in the series here.
When Jesus starts speaking of judgment, I get really uncomfortable. (Yes, I’m aware this is an ironic statement from someone who just last week complained about Jesus’ patience.)
To be clear, I’m cool with Jesus flipping temple tables and even yelling at the Pharisees a bit. Probably they deserved it. The problem is, Jesus says other things that are harder to disassociate from nice people like me. He speaks of unprepared bridesmaids shut out of weddings, of servants banished into darkness. He says those won’t forgive won’t be forgiven. He describes the road to life as narrow. He even suggests it is better to pluck out a lustful eye than face the consequences of keeping it.
I know I’m not the only Jesus-follower whose brain suddenly goes static whenever Jesus takes this tone. I won’t even pretend to have resolved all my questions about it. But still, giving Jesus the benefit of the doubt, a few things have begun to occur to me about the place of judgment in a world ruled by Love.
Basic principles: God is love. And love cannot be coerced. For love to be love at all, it must be freely chosen. This means that in a world ruled by Love, there must be an option to say ‘No.’ No, God, I do not want you. No, I will not take your Way.
Even leaving aside more difficult questions of punishment, there are natural consequences to all choices. If you opt out of light, what you’re left in is darkness. God is the source of light and life and love, the radiant star from which all these goods emanate. If you do not want a world with God at the center, you can opt out. God will honor that choice. But you cannot opt out and keep the sun. The farther away you move from the solar system’s brilliant center, the dimmer light, life, and love all become.
Believing this does not require an angry or vindictive God. It is fully compatible with an entirely loving one. Jesus’ judgment sayings in this vein are more like teaching the principles of physics: “Dear friends, I love you and prize your lives. So please, don’t jump off the roof just hoping gravity won’t apply.”
And another thing. This kingdom of heaven Jesus speaks about, a renewed world where peace and justice reign, sounds like a wonderful place. That’s why we all want to be there. But this new world won’t exactly be all we are hoping if everyone can walk in and litter rotten greed and prejudice and grudges across the floor.
Jesus constantly encountered the dilemma of people who wanted God’s world but without its terms. Grace. But not for my enemies. Justice. As long as I don’t have to give up my ill-gotten gains. Peace. But not with anyone telling me what to do. Health. But also no limits on how I use my body. Love. As long as I get to define for my neighbors what that love should mean.
Put simply: you can’t swim in heaven’s pure, sparkling pool of peace and justice while insisting on your right to keep peeing in the water. Judgment in the teachings of Jesus is not a hammer of condemnation threatening those not good enough. It’s a declaration of God’s merciful commitment to keeping poison out of the pool. It’s an invitation to a journey of transformation in which we become people who are actually ready to live in the world that we dream of.
In this sense the road must be narrow, and the gate as well, for the kingdom to be what is promised. There’s no room on the road for tanks that run over people. Inflated egos, suitcases full of hoarded goods, and barrels of grudges will simply not fit through the doorway.
The question for all of us to ponder is how ready we are to participate in the world we’re praying for—or what particular package of poison we’re still trying to sneak through the door.
