EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Not since Sept. 11, 2001, has there been a more tumultuous year of the 21st century than this year—2020. Please consider the facts.

Sources of tumult in 2020

Our country has struggled with a global pandemic that has claimed, as of this writing, the lives of more than 300,000 people and counting. This once-in-a-century event has caused the restriction of religious gatherings, halted sporting events, closed school systems and placed a pause on life as we know it.

The pandemic, in turn, has plunged the country into a deep recession that has resulted in the loss of millions of jobs. In addition to the public health mayhem, the citizens of our country were made to witness and even experience the anguish and rage that has been a lingering cancer and disease in the Black and brown communities in America for more than a century.

Millions of people witnessed on national television the death of George Floyd, one more person of color who died while in police custody. George Floyd was not a celebrity of note. He tragically was one of many African American males who lost his life during an arrest attempt in a metropolitan city in our country.

As a result of George Floyd’s death, there have been demonstrations in small towns and in metropolitan areas nationwide; in many cases the demonstrations and protests persist. Just like spectators at a theatrical performance, we have witnessed the outpouring of emotions by thousands of people of all ethnicities, skin colors, socio-economic classes and levels of education.

The outcry of the masses has resounded in unison, saying that the disproportionate killing and harassment of Black and brown people groups must stop.

Still do not understand

While the events of the present day are shocking and appalling to many, I discovered a long time ago that many of my well-meaning friends and colleagues still do not understand the gravity of the situation.

• They do not understand that systemic racism continues to pervade our country today.
• They do not understand the disproportionate differences in criminal sentences for offenders of one race versus another.
• They do not understand, or maybe cannot understand, the pain of prejudice and bigotry.
• They do not understand that the phrase “Black Lives Matter” is more descriptive and personal than a political action group.
• They do not understand that the tears so many Black people cry emanate from a place deep within the souls of a people who must: (1) assimilate in order to be accepted, (2) whose male role models often are softened in the media and, in order to be tolerated or recognized, are forced to be seen as effeminate; and (3) who fear their child’s first traffic stop may be his/her last traffic stop.

Many really don’t understand our journey. Lost on so many are the words of James Weldon Johnson:

“Stony the road we trod,
bitter the chast’ning rod,
felt in the day that hope unborn had died;
yet with a steady beat,
have not our weary feet,
come to the place on which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
we have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last
where the white gleam of our star is cast.”

What justice looks like to me

Justice looks like an America that can celebrate its diversity. It is a place where character counts, instead of the color or pigmentation of one’s skin. It is the full recognition, that as human beings, we are created in the “image of God” and are brothers and sisters co-equal and composing the human race.

Not until we see the utter humanity and commonalities that exist in all of us can we truly grasp the worth of all people.

As Christians, the lessons of loving one’s neighbor in the same manner in which one is to love him or herself should be easy. Unfortunately, we tend to be the people who seemingly are awestricken and confused by the outcry of people who have lived with systemic inequities.

Jesus makes it clear; he prioritized the worth of all people when he said, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).

In the words of an unknown author: “We shall know the true meaning of justice when we come to realize that an injury to one is the concern of us all.”

Rev. Dr. Michael Evans Sr. is the pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Mansfield, Texas, and the president of the Baptist General Convention of Texas. The views expressed are those of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

First and foremost for Christians, justice is seen in light of God’s justification of sinners.

The cross is the demonstration of God’s righteousness and the pronouncement of God’s condemnation upon all human sin and injustice in human history (Romans 3:21-26; 8:1-4). Yet, even as all stand under the judgment of the cross because “all have sinned” (Romans 3:23), so all stand under the cross’ single mercy.

That God’s final word was not to give us the wages of what we deserve but to save us by the gift of his grace in Christ should drive Christians in gratitude to embrace mercy and seek justice. This fact disallows moral hubris and self-righteousness without diminishing the seriousness with which God takes sin.

For those who follow Christ, justice, mercy and humility must be bound together as a three-fold cord (Micah 6:8). Kindness without justice is sentimentality, as justice without kindness is vengeance.

From these convictions, Christians are propelled to strive for justice and oppose injustice in the present beyond the boundaries of the church.

Christian convictions about justice

Creation & God’s image

Because all people are created in the image of God—which is the image of Christ—Christians will uphold and lend their aid to elements in the cultural, societal and political order that uphold the dignity of all people—and do so with special compassion for the vulnerable.

Christians will uphold justice for those who are wronged, without depriving those punished for wrongdoing of their own humanity, praying and working for their eventual spiritual and societal restoration.

Sin & salvation

Because all people are caught up in and willingly embrace the powers of sin, Christians will defer to God absolute judgments upon persons, focusing instead on provisional judgments and on the actions and injustices of individuals.

The witness of David’s and Paul’s lives in Scripture teaches us persons can be both the perpetrators and the victims of injustice. Persons are captive to forces and powers larger than themselves, while also possessing the dignity of responsible agency before God—a precondition for justice (Deuteronomy 10:17-19; cf. Leviticus 19:15).

The tragedy of this current state is not the last word. God has not abandoned the world to its own dissolution (Romans 8:18-39). Christians, therefore, can work for justice without either naïve optimism or unyielding cynicism about the human condition or the possibilities of social arrangements.

Final justice & future hope

Christians know final justice is established by God alone and awaits a future hope. This strange time between Christ’s resurrection and return is marred by perpetual conflict. Justice in this context is debated perennially, not only because of human limitations of knowledge, but because any current society is not the kingdom of God and never will be.

Despite having their eyes on a prize beyond this world (Hebrews 11:1), Christians should not be passive but should be faithfully obedient to God in the present order. It is not in spite of but because Christians are heavenly minded that they are of earthly good.

The prison reforms of Gladys Aylward in China; the love and care for thousands of orphans in England by George Müller; the protection and compassion given to Jews by Corrie ten Boom and her family during the Second World War; the striving for the abolition of slavery by individuals like Sojourner Truth, William Wilberforce and Olaudah Equiano—all of these were efforts for justice and opposition to injustice by people driven by faith in a coming kingdom, a faith that did not stifle but propelled their work in our own present world.

The vision of the peaceful kingdom of the future drove Christians to pray and labor for justice and peace in the present and to keep their eyes on a heavenly prize making an earthly one possible. It motivated Christians in ancient Rome to collect and raise unwanted infants—most often girls—abandoned to die on the hills surrounding the city. It also upheld those who marched in Selma for the recognition of the human dignity of all United States citizens, and the extension of full civil rights and enfranchisement regardless of skin color.

Reconciliation

Christians embrace justice—a mark of peace and harmony—because they embrace its true goal of reconciliation, for we are the objects of divine reconciliation and called to its ministry (2 Corinthians 5:18; Colossians 1:20).

For Christians, the peace we have with God is the basis for the peace we have with one another within the church, and the reason we can pray and work for peace and justice in our world. This peace in the church is the gift of God, not the achievement of humanity, for he alone has broken down the walls of division through the cross (Ephesians 2:15-16; Galatians 3:28).

The final peace to come will be his gift, as well, where “righteousness is at home” (2 Peter 3:13).

Perseverance in doing good

Christians are called to pray for God’s perfect justice to come, even as they work to struggle for it now and to embrace all that might reflect it. That they can do so tirelessly is possible only because they do not place their hope in the effervescent whims of human interest, the simplistic optimism of cultural progress, the narrow belief that politics is the only significant lever of human change, or even their own fervent activity.

Instead, Christians place their hope in and wait upon the Lord, the one who renews their strength for calm, resolute and clear-eyed action within the church and within the world. He allows them to run and not grow weary in doing good while they await their future hope. Theirs is a “hastening that waits.”

Kimlyn J. Bender is professor of Christian theology at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. An ordained Baptist minister, he is the author of a number of books, most recently Reading Karl Barth for the Church: A Guide and Companion, and the recipient of a number of awards, including the Elie Wiesel Prize in Ethics. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Justice looks like the Great Commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and, love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37-38, Mark 12:30-31, Luke 10:27).

In Matthew, Jesus added that the Law and the demands of the prophets are based on this.

It’s that simple, but we want to complicate things. Like the lawyer in Luke 10, we ask, “Who is my neighbor?”

Laws, amendments to the U.S. Constitution and progressive codes of ethics have failed to eradicate injustice, disparity and brutality. More of the same will not yield better results.

The problem is in the human heart. We prefer to hang around people who look like us, act like us or, at least, agree with our point of view. This is exacerbated when we unfriend people on social media with whom we disagree and is accelerated by today’s cancel culture. We not only hate our enemies but also the friends of our enemies.

Like and unlike

Our desire to exclude those unlike us leads to injustice. We created deed restrictions to keep undesirable people groups out of our neighborhoods. By the time such restrictions were outlawed by the Civil Rights Act of 1968, the damage was done.

Poor, unrestricted neighborhoods were considered high risk and denied mortgage loans—a process known as redlining. Greenlined were the new houses in the suburbs, and, everyone who could left the deteriorating cities for better schools and safer neighborhoods—a process known as white flight.

While America officially desegregated schools, lunch counters and jobs, people continued to self-segregate in social settings. Martin Luther King Jr. repeatedly declared, “Eleven o’clock Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America.”

Racial injustice is fueled by unfamiliarity. An August 2014 article in The Atlantic reported that 75 percent of white Americans have entirely white social networks. On the other hand, 65 percent of Black Americans have entirely Black social networks.

As a result, our understanding of people who are different from us comes from stereotypes, caricatures and media coverage that supports our prejudice.

Jesus is our example

We need to follow Jesus’ example. He was called a friend of tax collectors and sinners. He lifted the standing of women and Samaritans. He was not afraid to touch lepers. His followers would open the kingdom of God to non-Jews and a sexually altered Ethiopian.

We must move beyond protests, advocacy and sensitivity training. Like the “good” Samaritan, we must reach across to people who are different from us with acts of healing and love.

Amy Cooper, the “Central Park Karen,” illustrates how far we are from a just society. She was a professional in the finance industry and received the types of racial sensitivity training common in today’s corporate environment. In fact, when she called 911 to report a false threat, she used the politically correct term “African American.”

She knew a call from a white woman reporting an attack by a Black male will receive immediate attention that could cost the Black male his life. Regardless of her level of racism, she did not see this man as a neighbor deserving of her love.

In the aftermath, they took her dog, fired her from her job, filed criminal charges and vilified her in the media. These actions visibly demonstrate our collective outrage, but we cannot neglect to look within our own hearts. Amy Cooper’s act demonstrates the evil that lurks within ready to spring into action when triggered by the right set of circumstances.

Addressing sin

The underlying problem is sin, and the only solution is Jesus. Racial bias and all types of inequality demonstrate an absence of love for our neighbor. It is an issue Christians of all races, from the entire socioeconomic spectrum, must address together.

First, we must fellowship. We must share meals. We must work together on projects of mutual interest.

Then, we talk about deeper issues as friends, as true brothers and sisters in Christ.

We need not ever ask, “Who is my neighbor?”

Rev. Jorge Zayasbazan is the pastor of Baptist Temple in San Antonio. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Four images come to mind when I think about what justice looks like.

One is the statute, Lady Justice.

Her blindfold, not part of her design until the 16^th century, represents impartiality and objectivity, also depicted by a set of scales symbolizing the weight of a matter’s strengths and weaknesses. An unsheathed sword indicates transparent and swift enforcement.

Another is from the 1837 Danish short story “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” Two swindlers arrive at the capital city of a vain emperor, who spends lavishly on clothing at the state’s expense, primarily concerned about the people’s applause and showing off his new clothes.

Posing as weavers, they offer to supply him with magnificent clothes that are invisible to the stupid or incompetent. He proudly accepts, and with his courtiers, and the townspeople uncomfortably go along with the pretense, not wanting to appear foolish. But in the end they do.

The weavers mime dressing him in his new suit. He moves into a procession. A child blurts out that the emperor is naked, exposing him before everyone. The people then realize everyone has been fooled. Although startled about his nakedness, the emperor ever more proudly continues his procession.

A third is depicted by those who live embracing Chris Marshall’s description in The Little Book of Biblical Justice:“At the broadest level, then, justice entails the exercise of legitimate power to ensure that benefits and penalties are distributed fairly and equitably in society, thus meeting the rights and enforcing the obligations of all parties.”

The last looks like Jesus with his followers today on a journey, recognizing they must do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with their God.

Jesus’ followers in an emperor’s land

I see them in an emperor’s land, in which God has willed just systems, structures and institutions into existence for his purposes and the good and well-being of his creation so it will not devolve into chaos, given humanity’s fallen condition.

They arrive at various justice destination points, seeing justice is not about being nice or not, hateful or not.

They see the systems, structures and institutions as God’s prodigals, being out of control. Their moral values—embedded in them by the people who designed, established and worked in them—have lost their way. Their systems, structures and institutions are sinful, distorted, biased, corrupt, oppressive, discriminatory and exploitative, because sinful people administer and operate them.

When sin accumulates among the land’s people, their systems, structures and institutions become overwhelmed and possessed by such sin because of their interrelatedness. This sources systemic injustice and is our reality.

But in Christ, this has been disarmed and defeated (Colossians 2:15).

Seeing justice in practice

I then see Jesus and his followers traveling. They are on a mission recognizing—regardless of race, ethnicity, nationality or gender—they are preaching good news to the poor; healing the brokenhearted; proclaiming liberty to the captives, incarcerated, brutalized, improperly segregated and oppressed; and recovery of sight to the blind who are living among those and within out-of-control contexts.

I see them stopping for beggars like Bartimaeus—who need relief from food insecurity, food deserts, lending, payday loans and other oppressive systems—as Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Matthew 20:32). For they recognize justice is not “just for us.”

They see misused, pained and mistreated people because of disparities of power, privilege, race, ethnicity, gender and money. They clearly see the emperor is naked as he exercises power, distributes benefits and penalties, and enforces rights and obligations.

They compassionately hear the cries, complaints and crises of people who are harassed, helpless and sick, and who need healthcare and allies.

They embrace South Africa’s Bishop Desmond Tutu’s words, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

They act, protest and intervene—challenging policies and practices of the out-of-control systems—to remove and “loose the chains of injustice” (Isaiah 58:6).

Confronting the emperor

They confront the fragile emperor, who shows discomfort and defensiveness when confronted about injustice in the land displayed through his and others’ attitudes, actions, inaction and silence. They see the justice scales are not balanced. Justice’s eyes are not blinded.

Fear won’t keep them from speaking up when they know justice’s truth. They see injustice’s realities are uncovered, as the emperor and his helpers keep strutting.

I nevertheless see them with hope, striving to be justice-pursuers until they bring justice to victory (Matthew 12:20).

This is what justice looks like to me.

Rev. Joseph C. Parker Jr., Esq., who considers himself a pursuer of justice, is an attorney and senior pastor of the David Chapel Missionary Baptist Church in Austin. He has served David Chapel as a minister since 1982 and as senior pastor since 1992. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

When I was 13 years old, my parents set my sister, brother and me in our small living room and told us we were moving to the United States. That news came as a big shock to us, even though many of our family members already had left Brazil in the 1990s to pursue a better life in other countries.

I did not know it then, but my parents—like many others—were faced with the task of making major decisions every day just to survive.

My parent’s decision was based on a strong commitment to provide for their family and rested on the reality that freedom to seek a better life is intertwined with a commitment to justice—specifically, the ability to choose what the life of their family should look like.

Furthermore, it speaks to the incredible amount of life-altering decisions vulnerable families must make every day.

Poverty affects life choices

Some of the challenges brought on by poverty my parents faced on a daily basis included deciding between paying the rent or utility bills for the month versus the ability to buy fresh meat and vegetables. They even found themselves faced with the decisions of which of their children would attend school and who would stay home. This is the reality for most people living in poverty.

Much research has been conducted in the areas of poverty and decision making. Researchers agree people living in poverty make many more life-altering and complex decisions compared to those in higher socio-economic status.

This reality creates a life characterized by high levels of stress, social exclusion, lower confidence and many other negative conditions that impact the psychological and physiological brain structures of people living in poverty.

Poverty along the border

Besides my own experiences with poverty, I have had a front-row seat to the impact poverty has on vulnerable families. For the last seven years, I have served with Buckner International on the Texas-Mexico border, working closely with vulnerable families in the Rio Grande Valley to strengthen them through education on finances, job skills, parenting and more. We have helped numerous families open their first checking and savings accounts or implement their first budget.

The coronavirus pandemic has exacerbated the levels of stress vulnerable families have experienced lately. As parents lost their jobs, they were faced with the harsh reality of figuring out how to support their families. As schools closed, parents became educators. As days became weeks and weeks became months, the pressure and stress of the future is leading to an increase in child neglect and domestic abuse.

Although we collectively have experienced higher levels of stress, the reality is my socio-economic status and privilege has provided me a safety net many vulnerable families do not have. This has led me to believe justice not only is about “just behavior or treatment,” it also is about the privilege of not having to make life-altering decisions constantly.

Justice in light of our status

In its most simplistic and practical form, justice means I am able to write this piece, and you are able to read it without having to worry about how we will put healthy food on our tables tonight.

As people of faith, and as people with strong social justice convictions, we must use our privileged statuses to build a more equitable and loving world for those for whom “the long arc of the moral universe” has not yet “bent towards justice,” to quote Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Justice also means we design programs that take the perspective of the people we are trying to help. As explained in a Chicago Booth Review research article, we must be diligent to avoid designing programs that would appeal to people with the luxury to devote careful thought and attention in their consideration, because “poverty imposes a heavy attentional ‘tax’ that prevents people from devoting that kind of thought to new opportunities.”

Although my parents had to sacrifice so much to give my siblings and me a better life, I understand now that even then they had a moral responsibility to stand up and stand out for justice.

They taught us no matter the circumstance, we always had a responsibility to make decisions that would build the kingdom of God instead of our own kingdoms. Ultimately, that is the one thing God will ask of us when we see him face to face.

Diego Silva is the director of the Buckner Family Hope Center at Peñitas, a nonprofit ministry of Buckner International. He also serves as the board vice president of the Texas Christian Community Development Network, as board member of EduK Child Strategies, as an academic coach in the Master of Public Administration program at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley, and as a fellow at USDA Center for Faith and Opportunity.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

For me, justice looks like a divine invitation from God to join in the coming of God’s reign here on Earth. In the introduction to this series, Eric Black invited us to see justice as “central to God’s character and God’s interaction with the world.” Furthermore, Black affirms: “When creation is unjust, the Creator will make sure justice is accomplished.”

As part of God’s attributes, justice is one of the standards God has set before us as human beings. In his book Introducing Christian Doctrine, theologian Millard Erickson highlights: “God expects his followers to emulate his righteousness and justice. We are to adopt as our standard his law and precepts. We are to treat others fairly and justly because that is what God himself does.”

While it is true justice is more than an invitation—it is God’s requirement for our lives (Micah 6:8)—I like to see it as an invitation. God does not force us to be just, but gives us an opportunity to choose to do the right thing.

It is an invitation to join our Creator, as Black mentioned, in making sure justice is accomplished. If accepted, this invitation will get us closer to fulfilling our purpose of giving glory to God.

Gifted to enact justice

As we are invited to join God in this project of building God’s reign here on earth, we are not invited empty-handed. The Holy Spirit, based on God’s will and his own choosing, has graced us with different gifts (1 Corinthians 12:11,18). Often, these gifts are correlated with the areas of passion God has placed in our hearts.

Together, these gifts and areas of passion are part of God’s invitation to join in a particular area of God’s concern where justice needs to be accomplished.

In my particular case, the Holy Spirit has graced me with the gift of teaching through spoken and written words. I have spent more than 25 years encouraging students, especially minority ones, to open their imaginations to a broader and richer future through the wonderful world of knowledge and education.

At Baptist University of the Américas, I have encouraged them to believe they can finish college and continue to graduate school. I have been teaching at BUA for 20 years, long enough to have the blessing of witnessing the success of former students as they graduate with their masters and doctorates.

My hope is these former students, in turn, will continue encouraging other minority students in such a way that God’s justice is accomplished in our communities.

Latina leadership

Another area where God has invited me to join in this project of accomplishing justice is the one of women’s issues. The fact I am a Latina woman with a doctorate opens the imagination of minority women and encourages them to study and obtain the highest academic degrees. As they see me, they may think: “If she, as a Latina, was able to do it, I can do it, too.”

Additionally, God has invited me to join in this task of accomplishing justice through the work of the Christian Latina Leadership Institute, where the goal is to train women in leadership issues—personal and professional/ministerial—in order to become agents of transformation in their families, churches and communities. As they become agents of transformation, they also join in God’s project of accomplishing justice in their communities.

To think God invites me every day to join in accomplishing God’s justice and developing the Reign here on earth is a privilege, a responsibility and a joy.

You’re invited, too

In the same way, God also is inviting you to join in this project of accomplishing justice and developing the Reign.

What are your areas of passion? What are your gifts? Whatever they are, God has given them to you with the purpose of inviting you to join in a particular area where justice needs to be accomplished.

Today there are so many areas where justice is needed. Let’s listen to God’s invitation. Let’s find our place in the service of God’s reign. Let’s bring honor and glory to God through just and right actions.

Dr. Nora O. Lozano is professor of theological studies at Baptist University of the Américas and executive director of the Christian Latina Leadership Institute in San Antonio, Texas. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

NOTA DEL EDITOR: “La justicia parece …” es una serie especial en la columna Voces. Los lectores tendrán la oportunidad de considerar la justicia desde numerosos puntos de vista. La serie se basa en la comprensión de cada escritor de las Escrituras y su relación con Jesucristo. Los escritores presentan sus propios puntos de vista independientemente de cualquier institución, a menos que se indique lo contrario en sus biografías.

Se le anima a escuchar a cada escritor sin prejuicios. Luego, entable una conversación con los que le rodean sobre cómo le parece la justicia.

Haga clic aquí para obtener más información sobre la serie. Haga clic aquí para leer la serie completa “La justicia parece …”.

Haga clic aquí para ver la versión inglés de este artículo. Click here for the English versión of this article.

Para mí, la justicia es como una invitación divina de parte de Dios a participar en la venida de su reino aquí en la Tierra. En la introducción a esta serie, Eric Black nos invitó a ver a la justicia como “fundamental para el carácter de Dios y la interacción de Dios con el mundo”. Además, Black afirma: “Cuando la creación es injusta, el Creador se asegurará de que se cumpla la justicia”.

Como parte de los atributos de Dios, la justicia es uno de los estándares que Dios ha establecido ante nosotros como seres humanos. En su libro Introducing Christian Doctrine, el teólogo Millard Erickson destaca: “Dios espera que sus seguidores emulen su rectitud y justicia. Debemos adoptar como norma su ley y preceptos. Debemos tratar a las demás personas de manera justa y equitativa porque eso mismo es lo que Dios hace”.

Si bien es cierto que la justicia es más que una invitación, pues es un requisito de Dios para nuestras vidas (Miqueas 6:8), a mí me gusta verla como una invitación. Dios no nos obliga a ser personas justas, sino que nos da la oportunidad de elegir hacer lo correcto.

Es una invitación a unirse a nuestro Creador, como mencionó Black, para asegurarnos de que se haga justicia. Si la aceptamos, esta invitación nos acercará más al cumplimiento de nuestro propósito de darle gloria a Dios.

Dotados para hacer justicia

Cuando recibimos la invitación a unirnos a Dios en este proyecto de construir su reino aquí en la tierra, no se nos invita con las manos vacías. El Espíritu Santo, basado en la voluntad de Dios y su propia elección, nos ha dotado con diferentes dones (1 Corintios 12:11, 18). A menudo, estos dones están relacionados con las áreas de pasión que Dios ha puesto en nuestros corazones.

Juntos, estos dones y áreas de pasión son parte de la invitación de Dios a unirnos en un área particular que le interesa a Dios, donde se debe de alcanzar justicia.

En mi caso particular, el Espíritu Santo me ha dado el don de enseñar a través de la palabra hablada y escrita. He pasado más de 25 años animando a estudiantes, especialmente a quienes pertenecen a grupos minoritarios, a abrir su imaginación a un futuro más vasto y rico a través del maravilloso mundo del conocimiento y la educación.

En la Universidad Bautista de las Américas (Baptist University of the Américas), les he animado a creer que pueden terminar la universidad y continuar con estudios de posgrado. He estado enseñando en BUA durante 20 años, tiempo suficiente para tener la bendición de presenciar el éxito de exalumnos/as a medida que se gradúan de sus maestrías y doctorados.

Mi esperanza es que estos antiguos estudiantes, a su vez, continúen alentando a otros estudiantes de grupos minoritarios, de tal manera que la justicia de Dios se alcance en nuestras comunidades.

Latinas en liderazgo

Otra área en la que Dios me ha invitado a unirme a este proyecto de hacer justicia es la de las mujeres. El hecho de ser una mujer latina con un doctorado, abre la imaginación de las mujeres de grupos minoritarios, y las anima a estudiar y a obtener los más altos títulos académicos. Al verme, ellas pueden pensar: “Si ella, como latina, pudo hacerlo, yo también puedo hacerlo”.

Además, Dios me ha invitado a unirme a esta tarea de alcanzar justicia a través del trabajo del Instituto Cristiano para Líderes Latinas (Christian Latina Leadership Institute), donde la meta es capacitar a las mujeres en asuntos de liderazgo, personal y profesional/ministerial, para que se conviertan en agentes de transformación en sus familias, iglesias y comunidades. A medida que se convierten en agentes de transformación, ellas también se unen al proyecto de Dios de alcanzar justicia en sus comunidades.

Pensar que Dios me invita todos los días a unirme a este proyecto de alcanzar su justicia y extender su reino aquí en la tierra, es un privilegio, una responsabilidad y un gozo.

La invitación es para usted también

De la misma forma, Dios también le invita a usted a unirse a este proyecto de hacer justicia y desarrollar el Reino.

¿Cuáles son sus áreas de pasión? ¿Cuáles son sus dones? Cualesquiera que sean, Dios se los ha dado con el propósito de invitarle a unirse en un área en particular donde se debe alcanzar justicia.

Hoy en día hay muchas áreas donde se necesita justicia. Escuchemos la invitación de Dios. Encontremos nuestro lugar al servicio del reino de Dios. Démosle el honor y la gloria a Dios mediante acciones justas y rectas.

La Dra. Nora O. Lozano es profesora de estudios teológicos en la Universidad Bautista de las Américas (Baptist University of the Américas) y directora ejecutiva del Instituto Cristiano para Líderes Latinas (Christian Latina Leadership Institute) en San Antonio, Texas. Las opiniones expresadas aquí pertenecen únicamente a la autora.

Haga clic aquí para leer la serie completa “La justicia parece …”.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

It was the morning of July 9, 2020.

I kept refreshing the SCOTUS Blog webpage. A decision had to be today. Suddenly, my eyes welled up and a lump formed in my throat.

I sat there for several seconds, attempting to swallow, processing what my eyes were taking in. When I finally could speak, my fist raised in the air, I looked at my husband who was casually drinking his morning coffee. The only words I could say were, “We won!”

The Supreme Court affirmed part of eastern Oklahoma remained Native American land. Specifically, it remained the land of the Mvskoke—commonly known as the Muscogee (Creek) Nation, my tribal nation.

This decision is important to the collective Native community. It showed to the nation we are still here.

I prayed in the following minutes and thanked God for a piece of justice being served.

• Justice for the constant battle against invisibility as a people, yet hyper-visualization as a culture.
• Justice for a people forced to leave their own land through the Indian Removal Act in 1836, led by President Andrew Jackson.
• Justice for the resiliency of a people to adapt and thrive with unfamiliar soil and terrain.
• Justice for being stripped of that new land by the Treaty of 1866.

Recognizing injustice

To recognize justice, we first must know the face of injustice. I find injustice is nurtured and maintained when we focus on centering ourselves and our comfort.

Within Christianity, comfort too often is projected as theology or doctrine. The Bible becomes the weapon to protect our preference over the truth. In order to be the hands of Jesus, the opposite must occur. We must become the selfless and focus on the well-being of those around us.

Discomfort can result in un-Christian reactions, which must be resolved through confession and repentance so love, kindness and humility can thrive and ultimately heal through justice.

What could be lacking in our pursuit for justice? Gary Vanderpol, in Return to Justice, has a straightforward statement about Christians and justice. “Too often [we] choose justice issues that [we] feel do not implicate [ourselves] so that [we] can play the heroic role of rescuer.”

We are pro-justice up to the point where we have been unjust. For example, when it comes to racial injustice, our money, votes and our social media posts tend to confirm what Vanderpol presents. We support the areas we feel cannot implicate us among the guilty. Once we enter areas of guilt, we stand by preference, not truth.

Symbolic vs. true sorrow

Although many showed support for the Muscogee over the years in their pursuit for the right to have their land, the focus ultimately was not on the Muscogee’s welfare. When the U.S. Supreme Court decision was announced, concern immediately switched to the impact on the non-Natives living on Native land and the economic result for Oklahoma.

This switch in concern revealed much of the support received was individual and, as Sarah Deer—University Distinguished Professor at the University of Kansas and herself Mvskoke—calls “symbolic sorrow,” rather than a true desire for justice for Native Americans.

I often hear phrases like: “This all takes time” or “Justice is happening. It has to go through the process.” I usually hear these types of responses from white Christian sisters and brothers who tend to benefit from injustice toward others.

Raymond Chang, from the Asian American Christian Collaborative, shares an important step in justice work.

“The burden can’t always be on people of color to be patient and endure when the changes that need to be made aren’t that complicated,” Chang writes. “At some point, people need to start taking responsibility for the inequities they perpetrate—whether or not they themselves fully comprehend it.”

For me, justice looks like being the hands and feet of Christ. That means I may become uncomfortable, challenged and dismissed. To pursue justice means I stay in those moments and keep moving forward, because it is not my preference at work, but God’s truth.

What does justice look like for you?

EDITOR’S NOTE: Updated Nov. 9, 2020, to clarify a citation from Sarah Deer.

Mariah Humphries is a Mvskoke Native American and lives in Waco with her family. Her husband is senior pastor at Park Lake Drive Baptist Church. She holds a master’s degree from Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary and is a member of the Baptist Standard board of directors. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Money changers in the temple

Justice looks like a standing up for what is right, regardless of who it might offend.

In Mark 11:15-17, we learn of Jesus driving out the money changers from the temple. This event is about so much more than pigeons sold in the courtyard.

It is about Jesus seeing the injustice created in order that some would profit unfairly at the expense of others. It was a reaction to the plight of the faithful, who only wanted to fulfill the law, and how the greed of others was stealing that from them.

Jesus could not let that stand. He could not know and do nothing. He had to call out their sin and stop them.

Justice looks like that. It looks like the courage to call out what is wrong and to work to make it stop, no matter the consequence.

The Pharisees and the woman

Justice looks like treating people with dignity, no matter who they are and what is in their past.

In John 8:1-11, John tells us of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law bringing to Jesus a woman caught in adultery. Scripture says they did this to trap him. With the appearance of wanting justice, those leaders also were using this woman for their own agenda.

Jesus’s focus was on what was best for the woman. Unlike the others, Jesus would not use her, for that is the opposite of justice.

Jesus immediately looked down, so as not to look on the woman who may not have been totally clothed. When he spoke, it was to her accusers. Rather than judging her, he asked the men who brought her to look at their own lives. When there was no one left to stone her, then Jesus said, “Go, and sin no more.”

Is that justice? Should she have been punished?

For Jesus, justice began with empathy and love. Then he focused on setting things right, making clear the path so what should have happened could happen. Jesus knew what we do not know about this woman. In his justice, he released her to go and live the life she was meant to live.

The hungry crowd

Justice looks like compassion.

In Mark 6:34-44, Jesus had compassion on the crowd, because he saw they were like sheep without a shepherd and were hungry. His disciples seemed annoyed. They went with Jesus to eat and rest, but the crowd followed. Jesus’s compassion cost the disciples their rest and their meal.

The disciples thought Jesus would send the crowd away when they got hungry, but Jesus had another plan. He asked his disciples to feed them. This really must have irritated them. They even asked, “Are we supposed to go and buy bread and give it to them?”

How was that fair? They had not invited the crowds to join them.

Does Jesus’s compassion ever annoy us or inconvenience us? How many times have we thought, “Surely God does not want me to speak out—or feed, house, be there or share.”

Maybe we think: “It is not my responsibility. I did not cause this problem. It’s too big. There’s nothing I can do that will make a difference.”

That is the thing about Jesus’ justice. We often do not want to be a part of it. Jesus could have left the disciples with their own solutions—buying food or sending the crowd away hungry. But Jesus had another way and a lesson to teach.

Justice is about who God is

Being compassionate is not about resources or swooping in like a superhero. It is not about us at all. It’s not even about the other person. Being compassionate is about who God is.

Jesus wanted the crowd fed because of who he is. He wanted the disciples to learn whatever they have, when placed in God’s hands, is always more than enough.

We often think of justice as getting what is deserved. But Jesus’ justice is about getting better than we deserve. The gospel message is we are sinners, and through no goodness on our part, Jesus came and died so we could have eternal life. Better than we deserve, right?

His justice is that way, too. His justice says we speak up for those who cannot. We treat others—all others—with dignity and offer a way out. We show compassion, even when it is costly.

Justice looks like Jesus. The question is, “Do we look like Jesus?”

Patty Lane is the director of intercultural ministries for the Baptist General Convention of Texas.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

I was born, raised and now live in El Paso. El Paso is a great place to live if you like to run, and I do. My runs regularly take me up to a place where I can see all three cities and states that adjoin each other here.

A few weeks ago, while on a morning run on my usual route, I noticed two things at a distance I hadn’t realized could be seen from my vantage point.

To the left of my viewpoint was a thick black line in stark contrast to the natural colors of the desert landscape. This is a part of the border wall funded by private donations.

Directly across and above this wall is Mount Cristo Rey, which sits on both sides of the international border between the United States and Mexico. The mountain is named for the statue of Christ located at the top of the mountain.

The figure of Christ stands in front of a giant cross. His eyes gaze out over the borderland, and his arms are outstretched with his palms facing outward over three cities and two nations.

As I thought about this picture—a manmade barrier created to keep people out directly across from a statue of Jesus on Mount Cristo Rey—Christ’s words came to my mind: “For I was hungry, and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in. … Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me” (Matthew 25:42-43, 45).

Caring for Christ at our border

Over the past few years, our city has been center stage to a humanitarian crisis. We have had front row seats as thousands of asylum seekers have traveled north to seek refuge at our border.

Our brothers and sisters seeking asylum shared with us their stories of what pushed them out of their beloved homelands and stories of the perilous journey that led them to our churches and nonprofits. Their journeys were fraught with danger on their way to the United States.

They also told of the harsh conditions they faced at the hands of federal agents and facilities after they surrendered themselves at our border.

Christ himself arrived at our doors. Churches, nonprofit organizations and individuals in our city responded to his knocking by working together to provide these brothers and sisters with shelter—a place to rest and catch their breath before waiting for their court hearings.

We gave them a clean set of clothes. We fed them. We prayed with them, and they prayed over us. Through this experience, we were ministered to in sanctifying, paradigm-shifting ways through the binding of the Holy Spirit between us and our brothers and sisters.

Christ came to our border. It was tough work. We were stretched thin. But we were motivated by a holy calling to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Caring for our brothers and sisters

When the “Remain in Mexico” policy was enacted, Christ was barred from crossing the border as thousands of asylum seekers were forced to wait for their court hearings for several months in Mexico.

Our brothers and sisters in Mexico responded by opening their doors to their neighbors seeking asylum. They fed them. They clothed them. They gave them shelter. And they continue to minister to many who have nowhere else to turn.

These ministers of Christ are stretched thin. They have become vulnerable to danger from gangs who do not want these churches to provide refuge to asylum seekers. But they still serve, sharing what little resources they may have, because they are compelled by their faith to love their neighbor as themselves—to love and serve Christ who has come knocking at their door.

Walling Christ out

Through a concerted effort by our government, a wall has been placed between us and our brothers and sisters seeking asylum. This wall is physical, but it also is legal, spiritual, emotional.

Our brothers and sisters are returned—by the planeload and in the dead of night—to their home countries where they face certain danger. They have been kept in subhuman conditions and incarcerated for indefinite amounts of time while awaiting their fate.

Their children have been ripped from their arms, scarred and traumatized by the separation of their primary source of comfort and refuge. They have been denied the universally recognized human right of seeking asylum.

When you create a divide that prevents people from seeking refuge—be it through a literal, physical wall or policy or by choosing consciously to do nothing in response to the cries of your brothers and sisters—you also put up a wall between you and Christ.

Your justification for that divide may be fear, a love of country over and above Christ’s command to love your neighbor as yourself, ignorance or racism. But still, the wall remains, and you separate yourself from Christ.

“Whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me,” Jesus said. “Depart from me” (Matthew 25:41, 45).

Letting Christ in

But Christ—whose ways are higher and holier than any manmade barrier—stands atop the holy mountain. His eyes are gazing outward toward you beyond the wall you’ve built between you and him. His hands are reaching outward, ready to reconcile you to him. But you have to tear down that wall.

Take heart; have courage. Trust and obey God, and tear down the oppressive manmade structures—be they physical barriers or policies that keep out those who are vulnerable.

Until you do, you wall out Christ.

“Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40).

Bethany Rivera Molinar serves as the executive director of Ciudad Nueva Community Outreach, is the president of the Texas Christian Community Development Network and co-pastors a church that meets in her neighborhood park. She lives, works and worships in her downtown neighborhood in El Paso, with her husband Adrian and their three children. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Three hundred years ago, in what would become America, it was not a crime to kill a slave who was undergoing “correction.” Black lives didn’t matter.

One hundred years ago, lynching—another name for premeditated conspiracy to murder—rarely was prosecuted, and in those few instances where it was, acquittal essentially was guaranteed. Black lives didn’t matter.

Sixty years ago, members of the Ku Klux Klan could kidnap, torture or murder civil rights activists, or even innocent individuals like the four little girls of the 16th Avenue Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala., sometimes with the complicity of local law enforcement officials. There was scant concern of prosecution or conviction. That a few murderers were convicted in later years does not alter the fact that terrorizing African Americans and their allies was a low-risk crime. Black lives didn’t matter.

And let’s not forget that since 1619, when the first Africans were traded as commodities, and carrying through to the 1950s, rape of Black women seldom was punished, notwithstanding overwhelming evidence of the crime. Indeed, sexual assault of Black women seemingly was accepted. The 1944 case of Recy Taylor, gang-raped by six white men who never were prosecuted, is just one case in point. At the same time, Black men could be lynched and Black communities destroyed at the mere suggestion of sexual impropriety involving a white woman. Black women’s lives didn’t matter.

Then and now

Today one need only list the names recently in the news and reflect objectively on the justice system’s response to the various incidents to begin to understand why the Black Lives Matter movement resonates in the African American community.

Ahmaud Arbery’s life mattered little to the three white men who are charged with murdering him. Their bias against Black people led them to believe Arbery to be a burglary suspect, and that was justification enough for them to dispense their vigilante “justice.” That Arbery was unarmed and seemingly engaged in nothing more than an afternoon jog initially sparked no arrests or even a thorough investigation by the original district attorney who reviewed the case. Arbery’s life didn’t matter.

Trayvon Martin’s life mattered little to George Zimmerman, who shot the 17-year-old who was walking home after purchasing a snack and a soft drink. Nor did it matter much to the jury that acquitted Zimmerman. Pursuant to Florida’s “stand your ground” legislation, Zimmerman was not required to retreat from the unarmed child he assaulted; he could use deadly force, even though he instigated the altercation with the teenager. Trayvon Martin had no right to stand his ground; his life didn’t matter.

George Floyd’s life seemingly mattered little to Derek Chauvin, the police officer seen kneeling on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes, his hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets as Floyd’s life seeped from his body. Nor did it seemingly matter to the other three officers on the scene who did little to protect Floyd.

As for me

Raised by Christian parents and educated in parochial school, I learned we are wonderfully made in the image of God. I was taught we all are children of God.

As a lawyer, I firmly believe in the directive of Micah 6:8, that we all are called to act justly, love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.

So, what does justice look like to me? It does not mean ignoring differences. It does, however, mean being ever sensitive to implicit biases that too often blind us to the insignificance of those differences based on race or skin color.

Just as importantly, justice looks like acknowledging explicit racism and addressing it, rather than deflecting to other issues to excuse the problem. For example, Black-on-Black crime is an issue, but it diminishes in no way that police brutality disproportionately affects African Americans, or that statistics show Blacks are more likely than whites to be arrested for suspicion of the same crime and are more likely to be given harsher sentences if convicted as compared to whites.

Justice means really and truly leaning in to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream that we judge a man by the content of his character rather than the color of his skin. The closer we come to doing that, the more we can boldly and proudly proclaim a just society in which all lives really do matter.

Patricia Wilson is a lawyer and a member of the Baylor Law School faculty, teaching courses in employment law and family law. She is the moderator-elect of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Justice looks like …” is a special series in the Voices column. Readers will have the opportunity to consider justice from numerous viewpoints. The series is based on each writer’s understanding of Scripture and relationship with Jesus Christ. Writers present their own views independent of any institution, unless otherwise noted in their bios.

You are encouraged to listen to each writer without prejudgment. Then, engage in conversation with others around you about what justice looks like to you.

Click here for more information about the series. Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.

Justice at its core is treating people in a right way, an ethical and honest way.

Justice under the law is when judges, lawyers and law enforcement officers treat an accused person with dignity and respect.

Justice in the workplace means everyone is treated without partiality, as a person created in the image of God with incredible potential.

Justice in a social context means we relate and organize through institutions, organizations and social structures in a just manner. Everyone influenced or impacted by those systems experiences dignity, respect and being regarded as one created in the image of God.

The opposite of justice is injustice, the absence of justice in any individual, institutional or relational context. A lack of justice inevitably exists due to the presence of sin. So, in one sense, we cannot escape injustice, because we are all sinners.

Prejudice, racism, discrimination, power, control, influence, superiority, jealousy, envy, wrath, pride and an inventory of sins is recorded by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the church at Ephesus (Ephesians 4:20–5:21). He instructs us to become imitators of God, living a life of love and reflecting the love of Christ for sinners like you and me.

Escaping injustice requires transformation

The only way to escape the habit of sin and our innate gravitational pull toward injustice is through a radical transformation of our minds (Romans 12:2). Do not miss this. How you think is what you do.

Rather than being conformed to the type of this world, Paul calls us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. This is the work of the Holy Spirit in us as we allow him to shape our hearts and minds freely. This is the pragmatic birthplace of justice for us in our hearts and minds.

Justice, in a Christian context, happens when we think like Jesus did. You may think it is impossible to think this way, “but we have the mind of Christ,” Paul contends in 1 Corinthians 2:16.

Rediscovering the kingdom

I was totally stunned while doing research for my recent book, Hope Now: Peace, Healing, and Justice When the Kingdom Comes Near, at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies in Oxford, England, during the summer of 2017.

I rediscovered Matthew 6:33 while digging deeper into the meaning of the kingdom of God. I learned the Latin Vulgate translated the concept of “righteousness” as “justice,” also captured in the 16th century Reina Valera translation of the Bible into Spanish.

A new rendering of this verse would be: “Seek first the kingdom of God and the justice of God, and all these things will be added to you.”

Justice was not something I pursued as a priority. I understood I should chase the kingdom of God, but not necessarily his justice. Pursuing the righteousness of God meant pursuing him, but not uniquely prioritizing his justice. That may seem like a silly or insignificant nuance. However, for me, this was revolutionary.

Above all things, Jesus challenges us to seek his kingdom, his reign and his justice. Did he not teach his disciples to pray in this way: “Thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven?”

What the kingdom of God looks like

For the kingdom of God and the justice of God to come near to us means: We would know each other better, especially across ethno-racial and cultural identity; we habitually would treat each other with dignity and respect; we would lead rather than follow society on issues of racial inequality.

Our congregations and institutional ministries would reflect a multicultural, multiracial and multiethnic fabric of identity at all levels of leadership. If the kingdom came near to us, we would see cultural and ethnic diversity in membership, staffing, leadership, volunteers, senior leadership and on our boards.

When the King and his kingdom came near in the early church, power and control of resources, authority and leadership were shared, and the Lord increased their number. The church would not have grown from 500 disciples to more than 3 million in the first three centuries had they not overcome the proclivity toward monocultural identity, power and control of resources.

The early church actively answered this question: What is the best way to live life on the planet? This is the 21st century question up for debate in our families, our communities, our congregations, our institutions, our nation and our world.

We know the Jesus way is the answer. Yet, the gap between what we know and what we do remains deep and wide.

Dr. Albert L. Reyes is the president and CEO of Buckner International.

Click here to read the full “Justice looks like…” series.