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Turning Tables
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Turning Tables
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Have you got a crazy member of your family? Every family has its quirks — mine has a joke about my 81-year-old father getting banned from cafés in the Lake District after misunderstanding what "bottomless brunch" meant. Families, like cultures, often get things lost in translation.
On trips to North America I've noticed how much genuinely gets lost in translation between British and American culture — from cucumber sandwiches to "pavements" versus "sidewalks." At one American college sports event, 50,000 people chanted "defense, defense, defense" in unison when the other team had the ball.
In British sport, though, we talk about "the press" — getting in someone's face, applying pressure, going on the offensive. I wonder if that mentality has crept into our culture more broadly. We're quick to get in someone's face, quick to attack what we think is wrong, rather than asking what we could defend.
Throughout this six-week series, Turning Tables, we haven't known what would happen in the wider world — riots on the streets, conflict in the Middle East. We're not offering social commentary on politics or current events. Instead, we're stepping back to ask: what does the Bible say about anger, violence, and how conflict escalates into war?
Everyone who goes to war believes they're justified — often even claiming God told them to. But in the Bible, watch what happens: instead of anger escalating uncontrollably as it does in human society, God's story deescalates. It takes personal anger and shows us, through Jesus, a completely different way to live.
The Old Testament opens amid war between nations and empires. By the time we reach Jesus, everything shifts. Jesus says:
"Turn the other cheek." "Blessed are the peacemakers." "My kingdom is not of this world."
One of the names God gives Himself in Scripture is Defender of the Weak. How often does the church feel it must go on the offensive, when actually we serve a God who says, "I'll defend what's mine" — a Father to the fatherless, a defender of those who cannot speak for themselves?
Today we're exploring the term holy war — is there really such a thing? — and filtering it through the lens of Jesus's kingdom and the weapons that kingdom uses.
Jesus stands before Pontius Pilate, falsely accused, the crowd shouting for His crucifixion. At first He says nothing — fulfilling the prophecy of the lamb led silently to slaughter. Then comes this exchange:
"My kingdom is not an earthly kingdom. If it were, my followers would fight to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish leaders. But my kingdom is not of this world." — John 18:36
The kingdom of God is simply the reign and authority of God — wherever Jesus is king, the kingdom is present. If Jesus is king of your heart, you are part of that kingdom; that's the territory, that's the jurisdiction.
Jesus is saying He is not connected to any political or national identity. You cannot claim Jesus is "on your side" against someone else. He is not consolidating power through violence, so His followers are not to do so either.
Pilate, confused, asks, "So you are a king then?" — assuming any claim to kingship must mean a violent revolution. But Jesus turns the tables on every superpower, government, and ideology. His kingdom has different origins. He has come because the earth belongs to God, and God wants it back — calling time on sin, evil, and rebellion.
Through the cross and resurrection, Jesus overcomes death and destruction. Through the ascension, He takes His rightful place as King of Kings — a kingdom that will never end. And one day, when He returns, every other power will bow the knee.
There's a long-standing philosophical framework called just war (sometimes called holy war) — actually quoted in international news conferences even last year. Its roots trace back to Greek philosophers like Socrates and Plato, developed later by Augustine (5th century) and Thomas Aquinas (13th century), and used to justify everything from the Crusades onward.
It's important to know: nowhere does the Bible actually teach "holy war." Deuteronomy 20 describes the conquest of Canaan as a historical event, not a prescription for the future. Scripture describes what happened; it doesn't prescribe it as an ongoing model.
The seven traditional criteria for "just war" are:
None of this comes from Scripture. God works with humanity from where it's at — much like polygamy in the Old Testament, which nobody today would call acceptable, yet God worked within that context and led people forward toward Christ. We look back to Jesus now, asking: how would He have us act?
Ethical questions remain hard. If someone broke into your house at midnight, are you justified defending your family and property? Perhaps. But would you be justified chasing them down the street and beating them within an inch of their life? The line matters. Our weapon is defense, not offense. The question isn't "should I attack?" but "should I defend the weak, defend what God has entrusted to me?"
We are not only under our own personal jurisdiction — we live under governments and global authorities too. Romans 13 doesn't leave Christians much wiggle room: we are called to submit to and respect the authorities placed over us, for three reasons:
As Christians, whatever our politics, we have a duty to pray for those in authority:
"Every AM, pray for your PM."
Rather than grumbling about governments and leaders — something churches can be very quick to do — our weapon should be prayer, trusting that God is building a kingdom that will never end. Jesus told us that every cycle of civilization, however advanced, will have wars and rumours of wars until He returns. We are not to panic or lose our heads, but to keep our eyes on the kingdom.
That said, authority is not absolute. Nazi Germany is the classic example of a government stepping so far outside God's ways that Christians must make a stand. But even then, how we do it should still reflect the kingdom — we are trusting that all judgment ultimately rests in God's hands. As Mary said in her song in Luke 1, "The Lord has brought down rulers from their thrones and he lifts up the humble." God identifies with the powerless — He is Father to the fatherless, defender of widows, defender of the weak.
Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 10 that we don't wage war as the world does:
"We use God's mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments... We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ."
The true battle is never simply about ideology or being right — it's always for someone's soul. Every human being is made in the image of God, yet there is a battle for their soul until they receive Jesus as Lord. Every prayer is more powerful than a warhead.
A stronghold in Scripture isn't a physical fortress — it's in the mind, in our thinking. People need help seeing that how they think doesn't reflect who God is or what Jesus has done on the cross. Our weapons are truth and righteousness — not winning arguments online, but building something real.
Interestingly, the Hebrew word for "stronghold," Misgav, also means defender, fortress, refuge — the very language the Psalms use again and again for God Himself. He is the Misgav, the stronghold of the weak, the fortress that can never be shaken. Perhaps the church should be calling out defense, not offense, in how we live.
As we close this series, here are three questions worth sitting with:
Are we more shaped by our nation's narrative or by Jesus's kingdom? Are we shaped more by social media, the evening news, or by what the Bible actually teaches about war, justice, and violence?
Would I think differently if I grew up in a war-torn region? We often read Scripture — and world events — through a modern, comfortable lens. A different context might shape our convictions differently. Perhaps we need humility rather than certainty that we're always right.
Am I fighting people, or powers and principalities? It's easy to look at a president, a government, a terrorist group, or a nation and cast judgment before we've prayed for the principalities behind the situation to be brought down, so people might see Jesus.
Lord Jesus, we thank you that you have established a kingdom that will never end. Your prayer that you taught your followers was, "May your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven." Lord, we want to play our part to advance the kingdom. Help us reflect on the weapons of your kingdom — truth and righteousness, speaking up for those who have no voice. We pray for peace, and for the weapons of prayer, praise, love, and forgiveness where people don't deserve it. We pray for sacrifice and surrender. And when we don't know what to do, or how things could ever turn out right, Lord, give us the weapon of trust to know the future is in your hands — for you are the God who was, and is, and is to come. Yours is the kingdom, yours is the power, forever and ever. Amen.
Have you got a crazy member of your family? Every family has its quirks — mine has a joke about my 81-year-old father getting banned from cafés in the Lake District after misunderstanding what "bottomless brunch" meant. Families, like cultures, often get things lost in translation.
On trips to North America I've noticed how much genuinely gets lost in translation between British and American culture — from cucumber sandwiches to "pavements" versus "sidewalks." At one American college sports event, 50,000 people chanted "defense, defense, defense" in unison when the other team had the ball.
In British sport, though, we talk about "the press" — getting in someone's face, applying pressure, going on the offensive. I wonder if that mentality has crept into our culture more broadly. We're quick to get in someone's face, quick to attack what we think is wrong, rather than asking what we could defend.
Throughout this six-week series, Turning Tables, we haven't known what would happen in the wider world — riots on the streets, conflict in the Middle East. We're not offering social commentary on politics or current events. Instead, we're stepping back to ask: what does the Bible say about anger, violence, and how conflict escalates into war?
Everyone who goes to war believes they're justified — often even claiming God told them to. But in the Bible, watch what happens: instead of anger escalating uncontrollably as it does in human society, God's story deescalates. It takes personal anger and shows us, through Jesus, a completely different way to live.
The Old Testament opens amid war between nations and empires. By the time we reach Jesus, everything shifts. Jesus says:
"Turn the other cheek." "Blessed are the peacemakers." "My kingdom is not of this world."
One of the names God gives Himself in Scripture is Defender of the Weak. How often does the church feel it must go on the offensive, when actually we serve a God who says, "I'll defend what's mine" — a Father to the fatherless, a defender of those who cannot speak for themselves?
Today we're exploring the term holy war — is there really such a thing? — and filtering it through the lens of Jesus's kingdom and the weapons that kingdom uses.
Jesus stands before Pontius Pilate, falsely accused, the crowd shouting for His crucifixion. At first He says nothing — fulfilling the prophecy of the lamb led silently to slaughter. Then comes this exchange:
"My kingdom is not an earthly kingdom. If it were, my followers would fight to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish leaders. But my kingdom is not of this world." — John 18:36
The kingdom of God is simply the reign and authority of God — wherever Jesus is king, the kingdom is present. If Jesus is king of your heart, you are part of that kingdom; that's the territory, that's the jurisdiction.
Jesus is saying He is not connected to any political or national identity. You cannot claim Jesus is "on your side" against someone else. He is not consolidating power through violence, so His followers are not to do so either.
Pilate, confused, asks, "So you are a king then?" — assuming any claim to kingship must mean a violent revolution. But Jesus turns the tables on every superpower, government, and ideology. His kingdom has different origins. He has come because the earth belongs to God, and God wants it back — calling time on sin, evil, and rebellion.
Through the cross and resurrection, Jesus overcomes death and destruction. Through the ascension, He takes His rightful place as King of Kings — a kingdom that will never end. And one day, when He returns, every other power will bow the knee.
There's a long-standing philosophical framework called just war (sometimes called holy war) — actually quoted in international news conferences even last year. Its roots trace back to Greek philosophers like Socrates and Plato, developed later by Augustine (5th century) and Thomas Aquinas (13th century), and used to justify everything from the Crusades onward.
It's important to know: nowhere does the Bible actually teach "holy war." Deuteronomy 20 describes the conquest of Canaan as a historical event, not a prescription for the future. Scripture describes what happened; it doesn't prescribe it as an ongoing model.
The seven traditional criteria for "just war" are:
None of this comes from Scripture. God works with humanity from where it's at — much like polygamy in the Old Testament, which nobody today would call acceptable, yet God worked within that context and led people forward toward Christ. We look back to Jesus now, asking: how would He have us act?
Ethical questions remain hard. If someone broke into your house at midnight, are you justified defending your family and property? Perhaps. But would you be justified chasing them down the street and beating them within an inch of their life? The line matters. Our weapon is defense, not offense. The question isn't "should I attack?" but "should I defend the weak, defend what God has entrusted to me?"
We are not only under our own personal jurisdiction — we live under governments and global authorities too. Romans 13 doesn't leave Christians much wiggle room: we are called to submit to and respect the authorities placed over us, for three reasons:
As Christians, whatever our politics, we have a duty to pray for those in authority:
"Every AM, pray for your PM."
Rather than grumbling about governments and leaders — something churches can be very quick to do — our weapon should be prayer, trusting that God is building a kingdom that will never end. Jesus told us that every cycle of civilization, however advanced, will have wars and rumours of wars until He returns. We are not to panic or lose our heads, but to keep our eyes on the kingdom.
That said, authority is not absolute. Nazi Germany is the classic example of a government stepping so far outside God's ways that Christians must make a stand. But even then, how we do it should still reflect the kingdom — we are trusting that all judgment ultimately rests in God's hands. As Mary said in her song in Luke 1, "The Lord has brought down rulers from their thrones and he lifts up the humble." God identifies with the powerless — He is Father to the fatherless, defender of widows, defender of the weak.
Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 10 that we don't wage war as the world does:
"We use God's mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments... We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ."
The true battle is never simply about ideology or being right — it's always for someone's soul. Every human being is made in the image of God, yet there is a battle for their soul until they receive Jesus as Lord. Every prayer is more powerful than a warhead.
A stronghold in Scripture isn't a physical fortress — it's in the mind, in our thinking. People need help seeing that how they think doesn't reflect who God is or what Jesus has done on the cross. Our weapons are truth and righteousness — not winning arguments online, but building something real.
Interestingly, the Hebrew word for "stronghold," Misgav, also means defender, fortress, refuge — the very language the Psalms use again and again for God Himself. He is the Misgav, the stronghold of the weak, the fortress that can never be shaken. Perhaps the church should be calling out defense, not offense, in how we live.
As we close this series, here are three questions worth sitting with:
Are we more shaped by our nation's narrative or by Jesus's kingdom? Are we shaped more by social media, the evening news, or by what the Bible actually teaches about war, justice, and violence?
Would I think differently if I grew up in a war-torn region? We often read Scripture — and world events — through a modern, comfortable lens. A different context might shape our convictions differently. Perhaps we need humility rather than certainty that we're always right.
Am I fighting people, or powers and principalities? It's easy to look at a president, a government, a terrorist group, or a nation and cast judgment before we've prayed for the principalities behind the situation to be brought down, so people might see Jesus.
Lord Jesus, we thank you that you have established a kingdom that will never end. Your prayer that you taught your followers was, "May your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven." Lord, we want to play our part to advance the kingdom. Help us reflect on the weapons of your kingdom — truth and righteousness, speaking up for those who have no voice. We pray for peace, and for the weapons of prayer, praise, love, and forgiveness where people don't deserve it. We pray for sacrifice and surrender. And when we don't know what to do, or how things could ever turn out right, Lord, give us the weapon of trust to know the future is in your hands — for you are the God who was, and is, and is to come. Yours is the kingdom, yours is the power, forever and ever. Amen.
