Who’s Afraid of Christian Shadows?

Since coming to Christ in the summer of 2023, I’ve maintained my critical nature. I believe everything we cherish must be examined and questioned in order to be truly understood and lived, or we risk succumbing to blind faith which can be disastrous.

Since 2024, I’ve dedicated so much of my time to actually reading the Bible (took me 15 months to read it all), but so much time also went into watching sermons and scholarly debates featuring a wide range of voices—from conventional and unconventional Christians to Jewish debaters, as well as atheists and agnostics like Alex O’Connor (a former atheist, now agnostic whom I deeply respect for his ethical and intellectual rigor and dedication to knowing scripture). 

While in Tbilisi, I also participated in a three-month, in-person evangelism and discipleship program that met weekly, where guests—both in person and virtually—shared their experiences of walking with Christ as missionaries.

Along with the numerous Bible studies I’ve attended, this has given me a fairly comprehensive understanding of Christianity.

Yet my immersion also brought to the surface various deeply ingrained shadows I’ve noticed within the Christian world which Christians might feel uncomfortable hearing and talking about. Nevertheless, I feel inclined to address them, and they are the problems of: (1) divine violence, (2) religious nationalism, (3) condemnation, and (4) empty worship.

I will use both ethical reasoning and the Bible itself to reveal why these are problematic—showing also how Scripture, when read in the light of Christ, already exposes these distortions. These are not exhaustive but ones I perceived as deeply rooted yet often dismissed by Christians.

The Problem of Violence in the Bible

Of any shadow within the Christian world, this one might provoke the most cognitive dissonance. On one hand, Christians are to believe in a God whose very nature is love. This God is revealed in the person of Jesus Christ, who said, “He who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9, NKJV).

Yet in the Old Testament, we encounter passages where this same God appears to command acts of genocide. For example, when the Israelites conquer Jericho, the book of Joshua records: “They utterly destroyed all that was in the city, both man and woman, young and old, ox and sheep and donkey, with the edge of the sword. And they devoted all to destruction, as the Lord commanded Moses” (Joshua 6:21, NKJV).

Although this account in Jericho is widely considered by scholars to be historically unlikely, how can this depiction of the same God revealed in Christ—merciful, forgiving, and self-giving—be reconciled with accounts of such violence?

In Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God, the reverend and philosopher Brian Zahnd identifies three possible responses to this dilemma. One could conclude that either (1) God is at times monstrous or immoral, (2) God changes over time, evolving from a wrathful to a loving God—going against the Christian doctrine of God’s unchanging nature (immutability)—or that (3) the Bible itself is a progressive revelation written by humans within their historical and cultural contexts, and that its trajectory points toward the full revelation of God in Jesus Christ.

Zahnd goes with the third option, urging that we are to read all Scripture through the lens of Christ, rather than assuming God directly endorses every recorded act of violence.

Jesus, after all, is a pacifist. Humans are the ones who are unable to drop their addiction to violence. In the Gospels, for instance, when Peter struck the servant of the high priest, Jesus rebuked him: “Put your sword in its place, for all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matthew 26:52, NKJV).

He also said to the religious leaders, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13, NKJV).

He summarized the law and prophets with the command, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart… and you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37–39, NKJV).

And Jesus expanded that love even further, saying, “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you” (Matthew 5:44, NKJV).

Throughout history, violence and colonialism have been justified through the Bible, yet when Christ becomes the lens of discernment, we see that violence is not divine will but human failure. Some may object and argue that Jesus is actually violent in Revelation, yet even there, reading through the lens of Jesus’ character, we find that his victory is not through warfare but through him and his sacrificial love. The sword from his mouth reveals divine truth that conquers through speech, not violence, and the blood on his robe bears witness to his own sacrifice, not that of his enemies.

Most Christians rightly oppose the sacrifice of babies—not because scripture tells them explicitly in every case, but hopefully because conscience itself reveals it as deeply wrong. Leviticus 18:21 in the Old Testament affirms this truth by saying “Do not give any of your children to be sacrificed to Molech, for you must not profane the name of your God.” Yet the Old Testament also records moments where God commands the Israelites to kill infants in the context of war: “Now go, attack Amalek and utterly destroy all that they have. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys” (1 Samuel 15:3). This contrast highlights the tension between moral conscience and divine command.

This tension reflects broader ethical challenges for Christians. While many uphold a pro-life stance on abortion from the principle of nonviolence—which is commendable—how do they reconcile this not only with instances in the Old Testament where God commands such acts, but also with some of the same people condoning other forms of sanctioned violence, such as the death penalty or sending loved ones to war?

I feel this inclination toward violence has no place in a conscience-guided, critically thinking Christian. We can even humbly draw inspiration from the Buddhists and Jains in this matter with their principle of ahimsa (non-violence).

The Problem of Religious Nationalism

“No King but Christ” – English and Scottish Covenanters (17th. c)

The Covenanters were Scottish Presbyterians who signed covenants (notably the National Covenant of 1638) opposing interference by the monarchy in church matters. They asserted that Christ alone was the head of the Church of Scotland, rejecting the authority of kings over religious affairs.

Although I understand the perspective of bringing the Christian message to the whole nation, the New Testament itself does caution against merging political authority with religious influence.

In Revelation chapter 13, the beasts symbolize political and religious authorities that demand worship and manipulate the people. In chapter 17, a “great prostitute” is depicted riding the beast, representing a corrupt religious system allied with political rulers, persecuting God’s people while legitimizing oppressive authority. Together, these passages warn that true allegiance belongs to Christ alone, whose kingdom is spiritual, not political.

Regarding the distinction between a spiritual and political entity, we can also scrutinize the state of Israel for forming a nation under the assertion of being the “promised land” described in the Torah (which the Old Testament includes). Since its founding in 1948, the ongoing conflict has sadly led to the deaths of roughly 135,000 Palestinians (Wikipedia).

The Old Testament frames the Promised Land as granted by God under conditions of peace, full possession, and covenant faithfulness. God promises security: “I will give peace in the land… and the sword shall not go through your land” (Leviticus 26:6), full occupancy: “Take possession of the land… for I have given you the land to possess it” (Numbers 33:53; Joshua 23:4), and blessings tied to obedience: “If they confess their iniquity… I will remember My covenant with Jacob” (Leviticus 26:40-42). Given the ongoing conflict, secularism, and contested borders, modern Israel is far from meeting these biblical conditions.

In John 18:36, Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”

The Problem of Condemnation

Throughout post-Christian history, many groups were persecuted under the guise of Christian principles. Indigenous peoples in the Americas faced conquest and forced conversion, Jews endured expulsions and persecution, and Muslims were attacked during the Crusades, with chroniclers like Raymond of Aguilers and Fulcher of Chartres noting indiscriminate killings of civilians. Heretical sects, women accused of witchcraft, and homosexual individuals were executed or criminalized. In all these cases, Christianity was used to justify their condemnation.

Jesus, however, did not condemn in the Gospels. In John 3:17, it says, “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” Jesus welcomed sinners and marginalized folks as Mark 2:15-17 reads: “While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples… ‘It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.’”

At the same time, yes, Jesus did call everybody to repent and turn from their shadows (sinful behaviors) such as pride, greed, hypocrisy, unforgiveness, and harboring hatred—urging them to follow his ways. (Matthew 5–7; Luke 5:32; Matthew 18:21-35).

A problem, however, arises when we add into the equation the human element. This is because the act of offering a warning or engaging in “righteous judgment” can so easily be mistaken for negative judgment or condemnation. This is a problem on both sides. One man’s heartfelt warning can be interpreted by another as condemnation, even if that was never the intention. Yet from the messenger’s side, he may outwardly believe he is offering a sincere warning, yet inwardly his heart may be driven by loathing. It is often difficult to discern what truly lies within a person’s heart.

Socially, unsolicited advice is often frowned upon, yet, sincere, humble, and constructive warnings can and often have spared others from self-destruction. Granted, many may disagree with the original warning, but it may potentially lead to an open, peaceful, and insightful dialogue. I feel that if we can ground our communication in both listening and love, not self-righteousness, then both sides can take something from the interaction.

Condemnation comes from a place of self-righteousness. In Luke 18:10-14, Jesus tells a parable that reveals a subtle, internalized form of condemnation, in which the Pharisee puffs himself up with pride while silently judging others:

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Essentially, we are to check in with what’s actually in our heart before we go out and speak.

The Problem of Empty Worship

“They worship me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” — Matthew 15:8

Empty worship is faith expressed without understanding or passion—where belief is blind and/or devotion is lukewarm. Thus we have two aspects of empty worship I address here: (1) blind faith and (2) lukewarm faith.

Blind Faith

Bind faith is a form of empty worship because true worship requires full attention of mind, heart, and spirit. Blind faith can undermine our God-given conscience and critical facilities at the cost of dogma. Yet all true things should be tested in order to affirm integrity.

In Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36–46), Jesus leaves Peter, James, and John, overwhelmed with sorrow as he prays to the Father. Three times he urges his disciples to “watch and pray,” warning that though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. Yet each time he returns, he finds them asleep. Then shortly after, Jesus is betrayed by Judas and handed over to the authorities to be arrested.

This passage emphasizes the need to stay vigilant, remain aware, and pray for discernment to avoid falling into peril. 

Within a sect or denomination, blind faith can have serious and damaging effects. A congregation, for instance, might insist that only members of their denomination are “truly saved,” or a follower might unquestioningly defend a charismatic leader despite evidence of harmful behavior (common in cults), believing loyalty alone proves righteousness.

Blind faith can also show up in emotional worship, where feelings stirred by music or atmosphere are mistaken for true devotion (e.g. Hillsong). Without mindful engagement, such experiences risk becoming a substitute for authentic connection with God.

Lukewarm Faith

“I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth.” — Revelation 3:15-16

Lukewarm faith can come in the form of cultural Christianity or “churchianity”—where individuals only go through the motions, instead of living the faith in the heart. There are potential indicators—meant not for judgment but as a cause for concern—when someone identifies as a Christian yet shows little or no evidence of the fruits of the Spirit which, to Galatians 5:22-23, are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Within a sect or denomination, faith can become more about belonging to a group than cultivating a living relationship with God, in which case faith loses its integrity. In such cases, believers may defend harmful teachings or abusive leaders simply to preserve their sense of belonging.

In churchianity, the church body, sect or denomination has replaced the faith itself, serving as a kind of zombie or idolatry, and though many Christians may scoff at the idea, the Bible itself can also become an idolatry. Brian Zahnd wonderfully put it as, “Jesus is what God has to say.” In extreme cases, the dead church or dead words may be used to justify violence, nationalism, or condemnation (as illustrated earlier).

I’ve always enjoyed a passage from the Zhuangzi in Taoism that speaks to the same idea:

“The fish trap exists because of the fish. Once you’ve gotten the fish you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit. Once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning. Once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can talk with him?”

This is not to say that we are to ditch the Bible (not at all!), but simply not to confuse the words (which are written down by humans) for Jesus.

Keeping Vigilant

As a lifelong learner, I value my capacity to recognize that my understanding or conscience may sometimes be mistaken, and I welcome criticism and rebuke from anybody (Christian or not) when offered with respect, since I truly believe we are all here to learn and grow together.