Fighting Injustice Through Discipleship

Millions in slavery. One in five women a victim of rape or attempted rape in her lifetime. The poorest in our world are victimized, abused, exploited.   

This suffering is dark. It is brutal. It is overwhelming. 

But what if this were precisely where God was calling us? And what if we're not so much being sent “out” as invited “in” to where God already is?

The Scriptures speak with remarkable clarity and regularity about the issue of injustice. A simple reading of the Old Testament alone reveals that the only issue addressed in these scriptures with any greater frequency than injustice is idolatry. There is a growing awareness that God has always been deeply concerned for those on the mar­gins of society, those whose lack of power and voice make them extraordinarily vulnerable. Further, people of faith are seeing once again that from God’s perspective, God’s people have always been his solution to the suffering of the world’s vulnerable.

Both the reality of God’s call to engage are often reasons enough for action. Indeed, almost any exposure to the statistics and particularly the stories of violent oppression produces significant unrest for people of reasonably good heart. This turbu­lence of soul often leads to a burst of activity—a desperate search for some meaningful way to engage in the issues. But the issues of vio­lent oppression are by nature so very dark, complex, confusing, chaotic, and taboo that good intentions, passion, and even out­rage often fuel involvement for a surprisingly short time.

The inevitable loss of traction and feelings of disappointment and helplessness can and often do thwart the plans of the well-inten­tioned. As Christians engage issues of oppression, they often find that that the faith they bring is not rugged enough to survive the desperation they inevitably feel as they get close to the violence of injustice. The need to stay “in control,” the need to be “safe,” and the need for “success” deflate the passion and hope they felt so clearly at the outset. This often results in waning commitment or in a commitment to remain only on the surface of the issue.

So it may be counterintuitive for me to share what we’ve discovered over the past 15 years of partnering with the churches and Christian leaders at International Justice Mission: the work of justice is some of the most fertile ground for discipleship that we’ve ever experienced. The places of violent oppression and abuse that may seem utterly God-forsaken are in fact the places where we have most deeply experienced the presence and power of God.

The call to the work of justice is therefore not God sending his church out to a place where God cannot be found. Rather, God is inviting us into the place where he is already at work.

It is here, among the world’s most vulnerable, that the Good News of God turns out to be very good indeed. In the work of justice, our good God is offering us what we so deeply desire in our churches. In the work of justice, God is beckoning us to experience his profound love for us and for the vulnerable of this world. The call to fight against injustice is therefore the call to intimacy with God and to deep discipleship.

But that’s hard to see. Indeed, when it comes to deepening our faith, to experiencing “more” of God, few of us intuitively turn to the places of deep difficulty and sorrow; the profoundly distressing realities of injustice and abuse of power in our world.

Instead, we try other things. More familiar things, perhaps. We, for example, continu­ally tweak the mode of our worship in an effort to connect more deeply with God. Surely a new song, an ancient song, a new form of worship, or an old rite will give us that sense of connection we crave. Surely more liturgy, less liturgy, a better band, no band, or better preaching will win back that sense of God’s presence in our midst. I think our willingness to examine our forms of worship is well-intentioned and often good, but it can produce a tendency to become entirely focused on these things to the exclu­sion of the clear commands of our Father. When left to fester, this disconnect becomes a sinful pattern that the Scriptures describe again and again.

This, in fact, is the context of the opening to the book of Isaiah:

What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices?
says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams
and the fat of fed beasts;
I do not delight in the blood of bulls,
or of lambs, or of goats. . . .
Bringing offerings is futile;
incense is an abomination to me.
New moon and sabbath and calling of convocation—
I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity…
…When you stretch out your hands,
I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers,
I will not listen;
your hands are full of blood. . . .
Learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow.

Isaiah 1:11-13, 15-17

The Israelites’ pietistic pursuit of God had become so discon­nected—particularly from the needy and vulnerable around them—that God called it sin. He goes so far as to say they have blood on their hands. The wonderful promise, however, is that for the church that is willing to learn to do good and seek justice, God is very willing to be found.

If there is a surprise I’ve experienced in following this call, it is this: Through the pursuit of justice we find our way to deep intimacy with a God who loves us and calls us into his work not only for the good of others, but for our own good as well. The work of justice is as much about dis­cipleship as it is about mission. It is not simply work that God calls us to undertake for the sake of others. It is work to which God calls us to for the sake of our own souls as well.