Love and Justice

Love, Justice, and the Space Between

I understand that Jesus wanted us to love and show compassion.

That part is clear. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” I’ve felt that love in the shelters when I had no address. I’ve felt it in the coffee house where nobody asked me to be smaller. I’ve felt it when my mother said, “You’re not hopeless, you’re developing,” and meant it.

I understand what Scripture says about love. But what about justice that the Bible speaks about?

That’s where I’ve wrestled. Because love without justice can feel like a hug while the house burns down. And justice without love can feel like a courtroom with no mercy. I’ve sat in that tension, especially when it comes to gays in the church and women.

I was struggling.

I was raised on verses. I was raised on “the Bible says.” But I was also raised by a God who kept showing up for me when I was behind. If God could hold that much grace for me, what did that mean for how I held grace for others?

I think the Bible wants us to love unconditionally.

Not love with an asterisk. Not love with a footnote. Jesus touched lepers. Ate with tax collectors. Defended a woman caught in adultery from men holding stones. He didn’t ask for a moral resume before He healed. He loved first. The changing came after — and it was between that person and God, not me and a gavel.

Rev. Cecil Williams taught us to love unconditional and be kind to others and also work for justice.,

Justice in the Bible isn’t God with a clipboard checking sins. It’s God flipping tables when the poor are exploited. It’s God telling kings they can’t build tombs for themselves while widows starve. It’s Isaiah 22 — where God replaces Shebna because he cared more about prestige than people. Justice is God saying, “You don’t get to use My name to keep people out.”

So where does that leave me with gays in the church and women?

It leaves me here: My job is to love. Fiercely. Without condition. My job is to fight for a world where nobody sleeps on a shelter cot if I can help it. Where no woman is told she’s “less” because of her gender. Where no person is told they’re “less” because of who they love.

And I love that Jesus didn’t hand me a list of who’s in and who’s out. He handed me a towel and said, “Wash feet.”

Love is the entrance. Justice is making sure the door stays open.

Rev. Cecil Williams got that. I’m still learning it. But I know this: God has given me so much strength, and I want to use it to love without condition and fight for justice without hate.