I never really thought of myself as an activist. In fact, I’ve only taken part in one demonstration in my entire life. I avoided social media debates because I wanted to live my life quietly, pray for the world, and stay out of trouble.
But then I saw my friend Alexander Venter’s life long example, and it inspired me to become more visible online. I started reposting and creating my own posts to show solidarity with those who are suffering, or are at risk of suffering.
Before long, though, I realized how quickly this kind of activism can lead to abuse. Our default way of thinking often falls into an “either/or” pattern, labeling things as either good or evil. Once we do that, we take a position - for or against —and that’s when division, broken relationships, and the pain of separation start to appear.
I was taken aback the other day by the angry response of someone I greatly respect, to a comment on his post about the Israel–Hamas debacle. Once we stake out our positions, it seems we begin to disregard the viewpoints of others and feel the need to control the outcome of our activism by taking an adversarial stance.
On the other hand, a strong public witness—complete with prophetic speech and moral confrontation—has historically been crucial in battles against slavery, apartheid, or segregation. Figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Desmond Tutu, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer took highly visible stands that inevitably provoked division. If these leaders had avoided the appearance of “division,” they wouldn’t have galvanized necessary social change.
I wonder how I can continue to be an activist without causing more pain and more anger. How can I be more like my mentor, Jesus? After all, being like Jesus doesn’t just mean being nice, kind, or quiet. It also doesn’t mean agreeing with everything simply to keep the peace. Jesus himself said, “I did not come to bring peace, but the sword,” and his life was truly one of activism.
Yet when his own life was threatened, he stopped Peter from defending him with a sword. He was "like a lamb led to the slaughter", choosing not to defend himself. He turned the other cheek to those who struck him, prayed for those who were killing him, and ultimately blamed only their ignorance—“they do not know what they are doing”
In our activism, we need to offer an alternative way of protest, that doesn’t increase anyone’s pain or aim to establish our viewpoint as the only correct one. Personally, I don’t believe violence should be part of our activism. Even Jesus, I would argue, had to learn this non-violent way through what he suffered: “And having been perfected, he became the author of eternal salvation for all who obey him” (Hebrews 5:8). He became the “scriptwriter” of an end-of-life “instructional video” that shows us how to be effective activists without adding to anyone’s suffering—by holding everything in love.
When we compare this end-of-life “video” to earlier moments in Jesus’ ministry—like when he cleared the Temple with a whip, overturning tables and driving out merchants—the difference is striking. Why didn’t he simply stand at the Temple doors, pray for the merchants, and attribute their wrongdoing solely to ignorance, as he did on the cross?
I believe it’s because, as Hebrews 5:8 says, “though he was a son, he had to learn obedience through the things he suffered.” Although we would argue that his actions in the Temple were not sinful, he still had to learn a better way—one that doesn’t try to control the outcome, but instead lives out of a surrendered heart.
And the end-of-life video proves that.
I want to stress that while this humility and surrender we see in the life of Jesus are virtues, strategic planning, lobbying, and even protest can be forms of faithful stewardship, not just grasping for control. There is a difference between arrogantly trying to manipulate outcomes and responsibly pursuing justice as an expression of caring for one’s neighbor.
It was that surrendered heart that led Jesus to submit in Gethsemane, willingly take up His cross, and die for both friends and enemies. A surrendered heart grants a supernatural ability to resist our strongest human instinct—self-preservation—and remain obedient, even unto death on a cross. That is why a surrendered heart is both a powerful ally and a faithful protector when we step onto the activism scene.
If we subconsciously believe it’s acceptable to use violence just because Jesus once did, then we won’t hesitate to use harsh, violent language to defend the name of our Father. We might even justify things like the Crusades, which killed millions, or the Spanish Inquisition, where Christians killed other Christians in the name of “clearing the Temple” of those who didn’t align with a particular doctrine.
Such a mindset robs us of our humility and gives us a distorted Scriptural basis for fanaticism in our Father’s name. We can end up severing relationships with good friends if they don’t share our belief, or we may stoop to cursing people on social media who disagree with us.
The example of Jesus in Gethsemane and on the cross should shape our activism. In the end, he held everything—all the pain, darkness, and brokenness—in love’s embrace. He did not flinch and became a martyr for a cause or shift blame to the Pharisees or the Jewish people for humanity’s failure to recognize their God. Instead, he absorbed that pain into his heart and transformed it into forgiveness, love, and salvation for the very ones who were killing him.
In our activism, we should strive to be children of our Father in heaven, who “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” (Matt 5:43-44)
We must allow the pain of this life to teach us obedience—just as Jesus learned—because we may one day be called to lay down our lives for those who do not love us. But if we resist this training and cling to our own desire for control, we may find that when the true test comes, we are unable to go the distance.
My current journey is to learn how to hold everything in love’s embrace—even individuals like Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, Benjamin Netanyahu, Yahya Sinwar, and others whose actions, in my view, have caused, are causing, or may cause serious harm to innocent civilians, to the environment, to world peace—and to remain willing to lay down my life for my Father’s purpose to showcase love in the midst of this brokenness, without blaming anything but ignorance.
My destination is well expressed in this poem by an anonymous English Nun:
"In stillness nailed
to hold all time,
all change,
all circumstance,
in and to love's embrace."
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