Doing justice like Jesus

Bridging the chasm between us

Lately, as I find myself scrolling through updates, I keep circling back to a question I already know by heart—the one so many of us are quietly carrying: in the face of breaking news that arrives faster than we can process and heavier than we can shoulder alone, what do we do?

The highlight reel of the last year alone featured senseless killings, mass deportations, a government shutdown, catastrophic flooding, assassinations and other attempts, protests of every kind and fragile ceasefire agreements—each headline forceful enough to divide us, ignite a social media firestorm and reinforce the uneasy sense that being right now matters more than preserving relationships. In such a climate, even faithful believers are unsure how to respond.

What do we do as we watch and wait, wondering if things might improve in time—when we feel deep sorrow about the state of our nation and a wariness of saying the wrong thing, or anything at all?

It’s okay to be rattled, confused or overwhelmed by what we are seeing. It’s okay to grieve lives lost and lament the absence of peace.

What may be more concerning is not our discomfort—but our indifference.

Christians divided on political issues have wrestled with how best to engage conversations in a divided world. Some say prayer must be paired with visible action. Others argue activism apart from prayer loses its soul. Still others insist that doing justice requires engagement with legislative systems while also calling on the one upon whose shoulders Scripture says the government will rest.

It has become normal to air political grievances online—saying what we would never say face to face. As the chasm of tolerance widens, Jesus stands ready to extend a grace we too often withhold from one another.  

It is a real temptation to simply look away. It seems a lesser of two evils—as though not taking a stand seems the better bet. But if we are not careful, desensitization can slowly give way to indifference—and indifference can quietly immobilize.

As a missional people, immobilization has consequences. It leaves space unoccupied where God has positioned us to bring to earth what is in heaven—and what we neglect does not remain neutral for long. It diminishes our witness in a world aching for hope.

Are we not The Salvation Army?

So, we return to the question: What does it look like to respond like Jesus?

In a divided and weary world, our calling is not toward louder opinions or quieter retreat, but toward a justice that reflects the heart of Jesus—faithful, compassionate and embodied in action.

Scripture as our starting point

Jesus’ ministry was wildly offensive to those who lacked understanding and life-changing to those who longed for rescue. The Pharisees were so offended by Jesus’ fulfilling the law—healing on the Sabbath, curing an unclean woman, casting demons from the afflicted, concerning himself with those outcast and without rights.

He took risks. He acted boldly and decisively, choosing obedience even when it incited danger. Yet his boldness was never rooted in outrage; his authority was never loud, but Spirit-shaped.

Matthew recounts the response of those afraid of Jesus’ power, whose response was to plot his death: Aware of this, Jesus withdrew from that place. A large crowd followed him, and he healed all who were ill (Matt. 12:15).

Jesus doesn’t spurn the crowd or demand they go away—in faith, they follow, and full of compassion, he heals them. All of them. What follows in Scripture is an echo of Isaiah’s prophecy, signaling Jesus’ humble arrival as the fulfillment of this ancient promise:

“Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations. He will not quarrel or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory. In his name the nations will put their hope” (Matt. 12:18-21).

This is a vision of justice rooted not in force, but in faithfulness. Not in volume, but in authority given by the Spirit of God.

Jesus deals gently with the weary and wounded, protecting what is fragile and restoring what is nearly extinguished. His justice extends beyond borders—to the stranger, the outsider, the one considered “other.”

What Jesus feels for those on the margins of society is not for us to simply observe and applaud as spectators. Instead, we are invited to participate. 2 Peter 1:4 says, “… he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature…”

Filled then with the Spirit, we too can be moved with compassion, extend love beyond our own means, and engage a mission that God has called each of us to.

Isaiah writes to the leaders and people of Judah who had grown corrupt in their dealings with one another, failing to love one another well. To those who belonged to one fractured nation, he says: Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow (Is. 1:17).

John would later reference this moment in history when he wrote, “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen (1 John 4:20).

Again and again, God calls people away from empty ritual and toward embodied compassion—justice that moves, righteousness that flows, mercy that walks humbly alongside faith.

Jesus lived this fully.

Wherever he went, whatever he did, he submitted himself to the will of the Father for the sake of others. He invited his disciples to come close—to watch, to learn, to experience, to ask questions, and then to go and do likewise, empowered by the Spirit to love beyond their own capacity.

If justice formed by the Spirit is our calling, then we need not imagine what it looks like—we have been practicing it for generations.

Our response

Throughout the world, The Salvation Army is at work in communities of every kind—from the beginning, we have always been about and for others.

In the U.S. alone, after-school programs represent dozens of nations, providing educational and emotional support to help children thrive. Salvation Army officers trained in law have helped community members navigate complex systems with care, while others have multiplied limited resources to provide hot meals to field workers. In immigrant communities, centers open their doors daily to elderly neighbors, and recovery programs continue to restore lives.  

So where do you find yourself today?

We each must decide whether we will remain unmoved or allow compassion to disrupt us; whether we will stay guarded or engage with humility and grace in the face of issues that press upon our witness and mission. 

If our response is to call upon the God of justice and engage the brokenness before us, then the invitation is not toward certainty or control—but toward Spirit-filled compassion in faithful action.

Not complacency. Not indifference. Not performative outrage.

But a love that reflects the heart of Christ—gentle with the other, courageous in obedience, faithful in tension and hopeful enough to believe that justice, molded by God’s Spirit, is not only possible but already at work among us.

The world may be loud. The division may feel vast. But we are not without direction. We follow the one who does not quarrel or cry out, yet brings justice through to victory. By his Spirit, so can we.

Do Good:

• Connect with your local Salvation Army and engage in living out the heart of Jesus through compassionate and practical ministries in your community.