While I disagree on certain points, there are aspects of liberal Christians that I deeply admire, particularly their profound grasp of God’s mercy and compassion for all and their emphasis on loving our enemies more fully. That said, I think there’s a blind spot.
War may not be the morally ideal or most desirable choice, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stand up for ourselves or safeguard future generations. Sometimes, it’s not about choosing violence but about refusing to give in to it. Peace is always the ultimate goal, but justice and protection are often essential steps to achieve it.
Violence, in itself, is not always evil — it depends on its cause and motive. A loving parent will not hesitate to use force, even overwhelming or violent force, to protect their child from harm. No one would accuse a mother of cruelty for hitting a wild animal attacking her baby, or a father for breaking down a door to rescue his child from a burning building. In such cases, violence becomes an expression of love.
The problem is not violence itself, but violence done from the wrong heart or for an unrighteous cause — out of hatred, cruelty, or domination. In Scripture, God’s use of force is never arbitrary but always purposeful, aimed at protecting, preserving, or purging evil for the sake of greater good. Divine violence, then, must be judged not by modern emotional reactions, but by the nature of the One who wields it and the redemptive purpose behind it.
“Love always protects” (1 Corinthians 13:7) is not a passive sentiment — it’s an active, fierce commitment to shield others from harm. The Greek word for “protects” (stegei) can mean to cover, to shelter, or to stand in the gap. It implies love as a defender, not just a comforter.
And Paul doesn’t say sometimes or when convenient — he says always. That means in every situation, even when it’s risky, costly, or misunderstood, love takes the hit to keep others safe. True love is not naïve or indifferent to evil; it rises up to confront it. This kind of love doesn’t look the other way — it stands between the threat and the beloved, even to the point of sacrifice.
Thus, the assumption that all violence is wrong must be challenged. Jesus’ command to “love your enemies” does not erase God’s authority to judge evil. Scripture gives examples of righteous violence. Jesus drove money‑changers out of the temple with a whip (John 2:15). Paul told the Romans that governing authorities do not bear the sword in vain but execute wrath on wrongdoers (Romans 13:4). In Acts 5:1–11, Ananias and Sapphira were struck down by the Holy Spirit for lying to God. In Acts 13:8–11, Paul rebukes Elymas for opposing the gospel, and the Holy Spirit strikes him blind. In Acts 12:21–23, King Herod accepts worship as though he were a god, and “an angel of the Lord struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.” And there are other likewise examples of divine violence executed against blasphemy, serving as a sobering reminder that divine judgment did not end with the Old Testament.
As King Solomon wisely said,
For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; … a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; … a time to throw away stones and a time to gather stones together.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-6)
There is an appropriate time for turning the other cheek and an appropriate time for picking up a sword. The key is discerning whether an act of violence serves justice or merely gratifies vengeance. Love without justice becomes permissive; justice without love becomes cruelty. Divine commands to destroy are presented as loving acts to protect future generations. When Israel later failed to remove immoral nations, those nations proved to be thorns in Israel’s side and led them into idolatry and oppression.
I understand that for many, especially in the West, these very thoughts clash sharply with the image of Jesus welcoming children into his arms (Mark 10:16) or telling Peter to put down his sword (John 18:11) and commanding us to love our enemies (Matthew 5:44). But these teachings do not contradict the reality of divine judgment — they complete it.
Jesus’ call to personal nonviolence was given to individuals within the context of God’s Kingdom — not to governments facing genocidal threats (see Romans 13:4).
In its original context, Jesus’ command to “turn the other cheek” (Matthew 5:39) was not about endorsing passivity in every situation, but about survival and wisdom under Roman occupation. First-century Jews lived under a brutal empire where Roman soldiers could humiliate, strike, or even kill with impunity. To retaliate against a soldier’s slap was to invite lethal force, not only against the individual but often against their entire family or village, since Rome was infamous for collective punishment and burning towns in reprisal. In that setting, turning the other cheek was a practical command — better to endure another insult than provoke a massacre. It was an act of defiance without destruction, a way of refusing to mirror Rome’s violence while preserving life.
Likewise, when Jesus told Peter to put away his sword (Matthew 26:52), it was not a universal command to forsake justice or self-defense. Rather, it was a deliberate act within a specific redemptive moment: Jesus had to willingly go to the cross and lay down His life as an atoning sacrifice. His mission was not to resist Rome with violence, but to overcome evil through his own blood. His warning to Peter — “those who live by the sword will die by the sword” — was not a blanket condemnation of all force, but a sober reminder to Peter that his retaliatory violence would bring about his immediate death penalty. In that moment, any attempt to fight back could have sabotaged the divine plan of salvation unfolding before their eyes.
When Jesus commanded, “love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44), He was not asking His followers to be passive or naïve in the face of evil. Rather, He was calling them to resist the destructive cycle of hateful retaliation that only breeds more violence and hatred. To love one’s enemy is to choose a higher way — wishing the best for them and refusing to repay injury with injury, while still standing firm in truth and justice.
To love your enemy means feeding them when they’re hungry and refusing to humiliate them even when you could. It means treating them with dignity, not vengeance. But loving your enemy doesn’t mean enabling them. It doesn’t mean allowing them to trample your boundaries, endanger your loved ones, or persist in evil unchecked. Love knows when to turn the other cheek — but it also knows when to lock the door and pick up a gun to protect its children from harm.
The bottom line is this: Jesus is the Lamb — but also the Lion (Revelation 5:5) who “judges and wages war” (Revelation 19:11). Make no mistake: Rabbi Yeshua of Nazareth was no hippie pacifist guru sipping a frappuccino and strumming a guitar on some California beach. The same hands that tenderly blessed children (Matthew 19:14) also overturned temple tables (Matthew 21:12). The same mouth that taught us to love our enemies also foretold of a violent divine judgment (Matthew 24:2). His love is fierce, and His peace is not passive — it is powerful. These truths don’t contradict; they reveal the fullness of divine love — tender toward the humble, and fierce toward unrepentant evil.
This was an excerpt from my book, “Heavenly Genocide: Exploring God’s Command for Biblical Israel to Wipe Out Entire Nations.“
