When We Pick Up the Sword

The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy.  My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.  I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd sacrifices his life for the sheep.  John 10:10–11, NLT

A pastor read a note aloud to his congregation about his daughter.  As parents, they had made the decision not to allow her to be on social media.  The note was a paragraph she had written of a college essay, answering the question, “Write about something you are grateful for that you haven’t always been grateful for?”  As he tearfully read it, the note pointed to one simple concept: true identity.  His daughter, referring to all the chaos, identity chasing, and mischaracterization that often goes with social media, closed the essay saying, “I am grateful (my mom) refused to let me blend in when blending would have cost me everything that I was becoming.” 

That note hit home as I was thinking about an interaction I had with a friend.  We both had serious concerns about civil and online discourse, particularly among Christians.  It centered on a theme that landed hard for both of us.  He asked, “Why do people think they need to protect God and are willing to harm each other to do so?”  His question led me to ponder thoughts on my own.  If we are fellow Christians, why are we so quick to label people, including other believers, we do not even know?  We insult, accuse, and warn, “You’re going to hell.”  Or worse, we defend a stance by saying, “I’m defending God,” or “I’m standing for righteousness.”  But the truth is we are simply wounding another person while claiming to protect a God who neither asks for it nor ever needed it. 

We want to live a life serving God, and yet, like Peter, when someone’s view of God differs from ours, we reach for the sword.  But as Jesus showed, it is not ours to defend God.  It is ours to do His will. 

Notice what the pastor’s daughter discovered.  She was not grateful that she had won an argument or silenced a critic.  She was grateful that something outside of her could not define who she was.  Her identity was settled through actual personal interactions.  So, she had nothing to defend.  That kind of security is rare, and it is exactly what we lose the moment we believe God needs us to guard Him. 

When I am certain of who God is and who I am in Him, I have no reason to swing at anyone.  The urge to defend usually grows from a quieter fear that if I do not win, God somehow loses.  Peter felt that fear in the garden.  He drew his sword and struck; certain he was protecting his Lord.  But Jesus told him to put it away and then healed the very man Peter had wounded.  The Savior repaired the damage His defender had caused. 

In that same Gospel, Jesus had already drawn a sharp line between two vastly different purposes: 

Read it slowly.  The thief takes life; the Shepherd gives His.  So, when we cut someone down in God’s name, when we accuse, shame, and wound, it is worth asking honestly whose work we are actually doing.  The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.  He does not lay into them. 

This is where it makes me feel uncomfortable.  The real question was never whether the other person was wrong.  It was whether I looked anything like the Shepherd in how I treated them.  Being Christ-like is harder than being His defender because defending lets me feel righteous while still doing damage.  Becoming like Him asks me to lay something down: my need to be right, my last word, my sword. 

God is not fragile.  He does not need a bodyguard.  He invites a follower.  And the follower’s task is not to win the argument but to resemble Christ, who we follow. 

So, before the next reply, the next post, the next hard conversation, it may be worth slowing down long enough to ask: Am I protecting God, or am I protecting my own sense of being right?  When people walk away from me, do they feel cut down, or cared for?  The difference between the thief and the Shepherd often shows up in something as small as our next sentence. 

My prayer is that we would trade the sword for the staff.  Help us, Lord, to be secure enough in who You are that we no longer feel the need to defend You by wounding others.  Make us look like the Shepherd, patient, gentle, and giving, so that the people around us meet Your life in us, and never the thief’s work done in Your name.  Amen.