Professed Christians are in a unique position when it comes to values. Some would say it's better, but I tend to think it is a bit more... fragile, somewhat "unverified" or not-tested. Here's what I mean:
Most people don't truly know what their core values are until they are challenged. Not everyone has a J in the WWJD bracelet. It's often when a hard decision has to be made, or an uncomfortable question demands an answer, that we "figure out" what we really believe. And that is great! You sorta find yourself in those moments, right? You catch yourself thinking: "Oh... this is what I really valued? Interesting."
As Christians, however, we are given a moral framework. We do have the J of the WWJD bracelet, and we are quite often asked by our parents and HS pastors, "What Would Jesus Do?" in your shoes, or what He thinks about the movie we are about to watch...
Scripture holds up a mirror that allows us to examine our behavior, name our shortcomings, and realign ourselves with the character of God. That is why a growing tension has been hard for me to ignore. I humbly present that, in the current context, you cannot be an honest Christian and not wrestle with this.
We all fall short (yes, I went to Romans 3, lol). However, the caveat that is greater than life is how easily we dismiss theological triage. What we treat as central versus optional in our faith, and how quickly justice is pushed to the margins when it becomes politically inconvenient.
In my recent exposure to the judicial system as an interpreter, I have found myself unexpectedly encouraged. Concepts like habeas corpus and due process, the right to appeal to the highest authority based purely on merits, and the commitment to ensure that every human being is heard, protected, and treated with dignity, often reflect Jesus' priorities more clearly than what I see practiced in many church spaces that loudly claim Christian identity.
This shouldn't surprise us if we remember our own biblical story. In the Old Testament, when disputes arose, people brought their cases to the city gates, where elders sat to listen, discern, and apply the law with wisdom rooted in their understanding of God's character (see Deuteronomy 16:18; Ruth 4). "Appoint judges and officials for you at each of your tribes' towns… They must judge the people fairly." (Deuteronomy 16:18, NLT) Justice was not outsourced to faceless systems, nor reduced to slogans. Justice was designed as relational, communal, and deeply spiritual. And above all... transparent.
Even the giving of the faithful supported this work. Tithes and offerings were not only about sustaining religious ritual; they helped uphold the community's responsibility to pursue justice, care for the vulnerable, and resolve conflict rightly. Faith and justice were inseparable. When was the last time you heard your pastor's call to put a dime towards the pursuit of Justice?
Today, however, we often avoid this kind of engagement. Instead of wrestling together with difficult questions, we default to monolithic, in-chamber "church" hearings, corporate-style structures that decide who can speak, what can be questioned, and which voices are marginalized... all while claiming moral certainty.
Ironically, secular courtrooms often do a better job of patiently hearing arguments and safeguarding dignity than our churches do. There is something sacred about a good-faith open court proceeding. Everyone is there, arguments are exposed to the light, and I'd argue Jesus is watching.
Jesus' words leave little room for confusion.
"For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home… And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you? … When you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me." (Matthew 25:35–40, NLT)
In Matthew 25, He identifies Himself with the hungry, the stranger, the prisoner... a.k.a. the least of these. And through the prophet Hosea, God reminds His people: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."
"I want you to show love, not offer sacrifices. I want you to know me more than I want burnt offerings." (Hosea 6:6, NLT)
Justice and mercy are not optional add-ons to faith; they are central to it.
If Tim Keller were still with us today, I suspect he would have something to say about this tension. Keller once wrote that a person who has truly understood God's grace will naturally pursue justice, and that neglecting the poor suggests either a misunderstanding of that grace or a heart not yet touched by God's mercy — because grace, rightly grasped, produces justice.
He consistently reminded the church that the gospel produces a people who actively seek justice—not as a political posture, but as a natural outflow of worship. Faith, for Keller, was never merely about correct belief, but about embodied love for neighbor in public life.
So here is my personal call to action.
If you are part of a church community that does not meaningfully pursue justice (often labeled "social justice," sometimes more as a dismissal than a description), that avoids peacemaking and silences minority or marginal voices rather than listening to them... then I have some unsolicited advice for you :)
The playground is for people 5 and under... sorry. Justice requires maturity.
Again, I submit that you have a responsibility before God to value justice more highly. That may mean working for change from within (good luck with that!!), or it may mean seeking a different community altogether.
Tribal belonging is not the ultimate goal. Faithfulness is. And by all means—by all means— (em dashes weren't optional here) seek justice.