Michael Fitzpatrick is a parishioner at St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Palo Alto, CA. After growing up in the rural northwest, he served over five years in the U. S. Army as a Chaplain's Assistant, including two deployments to Iraq. After completing his military service, Michael has done graduate work in literature and philosophy. He is now finishing his PhD at Stanford University.

Some conversations you never forget. Once myself and about five other young adults were meeting with the local parish priest and the diocesan bishop in a neighboring Episcopal diocese. The purpose was to ask questions of the bishop, things that were on our hearts and mind. One of my peers spoke up, and said, “I am a social justice activist professionally. I know what my social justice life has to do with the church, whether it’s advocating for diversity in the church or a better response to sexual assault by church leaders. What I don’t know is what the church has to do with my social justice work. What does faith add to the issues I’m passionate about?”

The question is stunning, and I was quietly proud of my friend for her frank admission. Sadly, the bishop of that diocese had little response. As I sat there, mind spinning, I realized we have reached a cultural poverty where the Gospel, the “Good News,” no longer feels like good news that impacts the way we live our lives or how we respond to issues that we care about.

I’d like to invite readers of this column to join me in exploring just what it might be that faith in Jesus adds to the ethical and political issues we face. This month, I’ll focus on the subject of Christian ethics. Please join me next month as we build on this conversation towards a vision of Christian politics. In both essays, I will frequently cite scripture to tie together the biblical threads I’m using to instruct our faith.

To begin, we have to go to the heart of why a group of ancient Jewish peasants thought their strange story of Jesus was Good News. Unlike nearly every other religious and philosophical system describing how to live or what the world is like, Christian faith begins with an action, specifically God’s action for us. Our faith proclaims that God has done something of eternal significance, and because of this, our world and our lives will never be the same. All that we believe and do flows out of this central conviction. Let’s look at a formulation of this truth.

God’s good creation has been broken by sin, and God so loves the world that he graciously sent Jesus to save us from the power of sin and redeem the world.

The world and our lives are in need of saving (Psalm 80, 1 Chron. 16.8-36). The social justice warrior agrees; that’s why they work so hard! God loves this world and is willing to make the sacrifice of love to rescue it. One of the earliest descriptions of God in scripture is of the “merciful God” (Deut. 4.31), and even from the story of Noah we see a God who, when faced with annihilation or restoration of a broken world, chooses restoration. The story of Jesus says that Jesus incarnates within time the eternal act of “the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world” (Rev. 13.8). This action, in which “God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ” (2 Cor. 5.19), is an act that destroys the power of sin over our lives and makes Jesus the Lord of this world (Acts 2.36; Eph. 1.19b-23). Through Christ’s victory over death and sacrifice on the cross, our union with Christ makes possible not only the redemption of our selves, but also that of all creation (Romans 6.1-11, 8.18-23). We are saved by the Act of God.

The power at work here is grace. God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves (Psalm 33.16-18; 146.3-4; Isaiah 44; see also Psalm 49). It is a gift, freely given (1 Cor. 2.12). We cannot earn grace, for grace is the action of love springing from its own overflowing. But we do have an obligation to respond appropriately to God’s gracious love. Scripture says that we have been “purchased” by the blood of Jesus (Rev. 5.9); bought at a price (1 Cor. 6.20); we belong to the Lord (Rom. 14.8). God has acted first, and we can act only by responding to what God has done.

Jesus captures the graciousness of God for us in his parable of the generous landowner, who pays all his servants equally, even though some work longer hours than others (Matt. 20.1-16). At the end of the parable, the landowner says to the grumblers, “I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you.” The Father of Jesus is a God who loves graciously because he wants to, not for any reason outside of his own love (2 Tim. 1.9).

Remarkably, the whole Christian ethic flows out of the gracious act of God. Unlike other religions or philosophical systems, where ethics consists primarily in obedience to a list of rules, Christianity teaches an ethics of response. This ethic is most concisely summarized in the following verse:

We should love as Christ has first loved us. (John 13.34)

Other worldviews can preach kindness or obedience to the moral law, but only Christianity claims that behavior ought to flow out of response to the action God first has done for us in Christ. Ethics is our response to what God has done first (1 John 4.19). We give because he gave first (Matt. 10.8). We forgive because he first forgave us (Col. 3.13). To illustrate this, Jesus tells a parable of the unmerciful servant, with the lesson that the servant ought to have forgiven those in debt to him out of response to the merciful forgiveness he received at the hands of the ruler (Matt. 18.21-35).

Because we act out of gratitude for what God has done for us, we are free from acting for others out of what we believe they deserve. We can give graciously, generously, freely, like God gives to us. The characteristics of those to whom we are giving—their temperament, their politics, their smell, their wealth, their fame, their power, their gender, their skin color—have no bearing on our motivation for giving to them (Luke 14.13-14; Psalm 109.31; 140.12; Prov. 14.21,31; 1 Cor 11.33 in one of St. Paul’s many examples). We simply give in response to God, where we are always his servants even as we are heirs to the kingdom (Col. 3.22-25). We give because we are overflowing with what we have been given, and desire all people to receive the saving power and love of God (1 Cor. 9.19-23).

Since our actions towards others are a response to God first loving us, our actions take on the self-sacrificial character of Christ’s death on the cross for our sakes. John writes in his first epistle, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters” (3.16). We do not love others for our own gain, but for their flourishing. There is no quid pro quo in the Christian life. Jesus teaches us to lend to others, even our enemies, without expecting repayment (Luke 6.35); again, we are merciful because God has first been merciful with us (v. 36). No greater love can a person have than to lay down their lives for another (John 15.13).

Our earthly identity, our success, our reputation or acclaim, counts for naught. Our identity lies solely in our union with Christ (Rom. 6.1-11). We don’t care about winning arguments or looking wise in the eyes of those around us; all we care about is sharing the truth and love of God to bless others, just as the truth and love of God has first blessed us. “For neither is circumcision anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation” (Gal 6.15); meaning, that neither an identity as those favored by God, nor an identity in the eyes of the world, has any importance. All that matters is Christ (Matt. 19.29).

So this is the first thing that faith can offer to the social justice warrior in her brave work. A gift of love to others out of response to perfect love is a game changer. To the person crushed under the weight of guilt for the brokenness they’ve caused in their lives or others, comes the Good News that the love of God in Jesus at the cross longs to forgive them and heal every broken thing. To the person alone and rejected because of their earthly identity, comes the Good News that all powers of this world are subject to the Jesus who is Lord, that the only identity that counts in the end is having Jesus say to you, “I know you.” God is the fountain of love that flows through us into every life we touch.

But how does our faith shape our choices as citizens in nations rife with political division and injustice? Join me next month to find out! 

Michael Fitzpatrick welcomes comments and question via m.c.fitzpatrick [at] outlook.com

Image credits: (1) Feed Inspiration; (2) Pinimg.com; and (3) Ecologist.