In many honor-and-shame cultures, especially throughout the Middle East, revenge is often considered a sacred obligation. In such places, allowing an enemy to live may be perceived not as mercy but as weakness. This was true in the ancient world, and in many tribal and Islamic societies today, it remains the norm. In light of this, it becomes clearer why Scripture records extreme actions such as the conquest of Canaan, where God commanded the destruction of deeply corrupted societies. Yet even then, such judgments were not the norm nor the desired goal, but exceptions with specific purposes. Jesus, in radical contrast to that norm, taught a revolutionary ethic:
You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
(Matthew 5:43-44)
This ethic isn’t passive; it challenges evil in a fresh, redemptive way. Loving someone means striving for their best, but how do you achieve that when they’re coming to take your life? The world today, particularly the Judeo-Christian sphere, has progressed and must continue to move toward a redemptive model of loving occupation. We must dare to govern when necessary, not to dominate or exploit, but to educate, heal, and liberate.
Rethinking Occupation: A Tool for Justice or Oppression
The word “occupation” often conjures images of tanks rolling through city streets, heavily guarded checkpoints, and relentless foreign domination. Yet at its core, to occupy simply means to exercise authority over a place or people. Like any form of power, occupation can be righteous or abusive. Paul writes that governing authorities are meant to be “God’s servant for your good” (Romans 13:4). But prophets like Micah condemned rulers who “tear the skin from my people” (Micah 3:2-3). The morality of an occupation depends on the heart and goals of the occupier.
We’ve seen both sides of this reality throughout history. Consider post-World War II Germany. The Allies did not simply defeat the Nazis and leave. Instead, they occupied Germany with a mission: to disarm, de-Nazify, and rebuild. They removed symbols of hatred, tried war criminals, and rewrote school curricula. But they didn’t stop there. They also introduced democratic institutions, rebuilt infrastructure, and trained local leaders to take up the mantle of self-governance. Germany rose from the ashes of totalitarianism to become one of the most stable democracies in the world. This was occupation as stewardship, not domination.
Contrast that with the horrors of the Congo Free State under King Leopold II. From 1885 to 1908, Leopold ruled the region as his personal empire, using forced labor to extract rubber and ivory. His soldiers massacred civilians, cut off hands to account for bullets, and drove the local population into famine and disease. The result was a population decline estimated in the millions. This was occupation as exploitation — closer to genocide than governance.
Occupation, then, is morally neutral. It becomes redemptive or destructive based on its purpose. When done for the sake of liberation, education, and transformation, it can be an act of love.
The need for occupation arises in contexts where societies are deeply indoctrinated into violence. Simply withdrawing or ignoring them enables continued suffering — for both the people within and their neighbors. Take, for instance, Gaza. Under Hamas control, children are taught from an early age to hate and to kill. These children didn’t choose this reality. It was imposed on them. In such cases, loving occupation becomes an act of rescue. It means dismantling terror networks, seizing weapons, and stopping the stream of hateful indoctrination. But it does not stop at disarmament. Like a guardian stepping in to rescue abused children, a loving occupier must also begin the crucial work of re-educating.
From Restraint to Renewal: The Role of Education
Violence may restrain evil for a time, but only education can renew minds (Romans 10:14-15). In post-Nazi Germany, once the military threat was subdued, the Allies rebuilt the education system from the ground up. Textbooks were rewritten. Teachers were vetted. Youth groups were reformed. Germans learned about the Holocaust and the dangers of hyper-nationalism and racism. In time, a new generation rose with very different values from the one before it.
This principle holds everywhere. After slavery was abolished in the United States, Christian abolitionists started schools for former slaves. They taught reading, history, and the gospel truth that all people are made in God’s image. In Rwanda, after the 1994 genocide, Hutus and Tutsis were brought together in reconciliation programs built on Christian forgiveness. Over time, forgiveness and empathy replaced hatred and revenge.
Education is not neutral. Every culture teaches its children a narrative — about who they are, who the enemy is, and what their future should be. In Gaza and similar places, that story must be rewritten. Not by erasing their identity, but by transforming it through revealing a higher purpose: that they are not instruments of Islamic jihad but children of God, created for peace, not for war.
Christ: The Only Secure Foundation for Peace
What worldview can sustain such a transformation? Not secularism alone. Not even general morality. The only foundation strong enough to overcome hatred is Jesus Christ — the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6).
Other religions offer moral wisdom, but only Christ makes forgiveness and love for enemies a commandment and then empowers it by His Spirit. Secular systems encourage tolerance, but lack a reason to love enemies. Therefore, any effort to reform societies must be bathed in spiritual awareness. It is not just a political or military struggle; it is a confrontation with demonic ideologies. A loving occupation resists these powers by removing their earthly footholds and replacing them with truth, love, and light.
Loving Occupation in Practice: Safeguards and Servanthood
A Christian approach to occupation must include rigorous ethical standards. Without them, we risk repeating the very injustices we hope to stop. A loving occupation must include:
- Clear moral purpose: The goal is to liberate and educate, not to dominate or exploit.
- Human rights protections: Occupiers must treat all civilians with dignity and justice.
- Local empowerment: The occupier must slowly educate, train and empower local leaders for self-rule.
- Exit strategy: The occupation must be temporary, ending when peace and stability allow.
Western Christians are also called to walk in humility. We do not bring a superior culture, but the transformative hope of the gospel. As we share Christ, we must remain mindful of our own brokenness — acknowledging, when needed, the shadows of colonialism, racism, or materialism in Western history. Only through honesty and repentance can we offer the message of Jesus with genuine credibility and grace.
Christlike education begins with removing hate from textbooks and replacing it with truth. Teach children the value of life, the beauty of mercy, and the power of forgiveness. Show them stories of enemies becoming friends. Teach them to think critically and empathize deeply. Train teachers to model compassion. Equip schools to become sanctuaries of peace and learning.
Conclusion: The Courage to Occupy with Love
Killing is in the Bible. Loving your enemy is in the Bible. But only one reflects the ultimate will of Christ.
Slavery is in the Bible. Chain-breaking is in the Bible. But only one reveals the heart of God.
Retributive violence is in the Bible. Grace-filled restoration is in the Bible. But only one is truly Christlike.
Segregation is in the Bible. Radical unity is in the Bible. But only one fulfills the prayer of Jesus.
The world has seen what happens when hate is left unchallenged. Genocide, terrorism, and endless war follow. But we have also seen what happens when courage and compassion lead the way: nations rebuilt, systems reformed, and hearts transformed.
Replacing genocide with a compassionate and temporary occupation is not a push for empire; it is a call for stewardship. A call to step in when others step out. A call to rescue rather than destroy. And above all, it is a call to bring the redemptive presence of Christ into the darkest places of our world — the very heart of the Gospel.
Let us be a people who do not run from the broken, but who shoulder the burden to rebuild. A people who refuse to feed the cycle of violence, but instead plant seeds of peace. Who understand that while protection may at times require soldiers, true renewal always ends with schools, families, and flourishing communities. And let us remember that the greatest revolution is never secured by force, but fulfilled by love.
