Today we wrap up the preaching portion of our nonviolence series. In week one, we were reminded of the wild freedom we have in Christ to act contrary to the pressures of the world. In week two, we looked at the revelation that every neighbor has a dignity we can’t comprehend—especially those we are tempted to designate as "other." In week three, we wrestled with the biblical witness, remembering that the nonviolent way of Christ is not passive withdrawal, but an active, engaged love of neighbor and enemy.
It’s been a light few weeks! But we’re going to keep digging in, because it’s Lent, and because we know from our newspapers that if we want to speak truth into the darkness of this war-torn world—speaking with our mouths and our lives—we must hear anew the Word of God. We must think through, with God’s help, what this means for how we live today, in March of 2026.
Today I want to focus on developing a VISION FOR A NON-VIOLENT CHURCH IN A VIOLENT WORLD. Our scriptures are the primary foundation for this. As Calvin put it, scripture is like a set of glasses we put on to see as God sees. Sometimes things look crazy when we put on these glasses, and sometimes we get a headache, but they are a gift to help us see differently.
In the story of David’s anointing, we are reminded of a basic truth: God evaluates human worth differently than we do. We look at the surface, with all our cultural conditioning; God looks upon the heart. When we attune ourselves to God’s evaluations, we find royal promise in people that human customs overlook.
In Ephesians, we are reminded that the call to live as children of the light begins NOW, even in this present darkness. We aren’t supposed to wait for ideal conditions. The letter says: Wake up! Walk in my ways now! You are free, and you have been given the power of God working in you. Jesus has opened a new door; get walking! [Quote closing sentence.]
Finally, the Gospel of John reminds us that Jesus of Nazareth has the power to give us the vision and healing we need, if we are humble enough to receive it. He came to illuminate truth for all who seek it. But to the cynical and arrogant who think they already know how power works, they might now be called blind. Many still look at the cross as a strange story with no relevance to real-world peace. They believe they are too “realistic” to accept the absurdity of salvation through the way of the cross, dyet they make their own logical leaps.
The United States is in the midst of another war. Listening to the pundits making a case for the bombing campaign in Iran, the absurdity of violence is on display. As Andre Trocme pointed out, every doctrine that affirms the use of violence also acknowledges that it is secondary. Violence is only a means of reaching a desirable end: justice and safety, and thus, peace. But peace IS non-violence. In this sense, everyone agrees that non-violence is the final aim.
He writes: “Consequently, those who abandon nonviolence—the supreme goal of human endeavor—by participating in "necessary" violent actions are no longer exhibiting a genuine sense of history. They are betraying history by abandoning its goal. Christ’s followers are to draw history out of the mire by proving that nonviolent action is the only means to bring about peace.”
We can already see how acts of violence are fertilizer for more violence; the man who entered the synagogue in Michigan to kill had recently received news that his family members were killed in Lebanon. The invitation to non-violence is not abstract, and it is not just for others, or politicians. It is an invitation to trust the reality of Jesus’ ways NOW, rather than assuming the kingdom of God has no relevance in our current lives.
“People tend to think of non-violence as a choice between using force and doing nothing. But for Jesus, the real choice takes place at another level. Nonviolence is less a matter of “not killing” and more a matter of showing compassion, of saving and redeeming, of being a healing community. One must choose between doing good to the person placed in one’s path, or the evil which one might be doing by mere abstention.” (146) This is something we CAN do, no matter how much or how little political power we have.
Andre Trocme presents a wonderful image of the urgency of following Jesus more practically. He suggests we have two visions of the world: an exterior vision that perceives reality “as it is,” and an interior vision which reveals the kingdom—reality “as it should and will be.”
We are like a child who cannot yet superimpose the two images. Each image is flat. The world “as it is” seems a sequence of phenomena without rhyme or reason. The world “as it should be” remains an ideal without substance. As adults, we should be capable of stereoscopic vision. Our spirit should superimpose those two images. When we do, each gains depth and meaning that monocular vision cannot give.
Jesus is the adult whose vision has completely superimposed the world as it is and the kingdom of God. To see the world correctly is to act by faith in obedience to Him and his ways. Whenever people submit themselves to Christ, the superposition of these two images incites a revolution, a transformation of themselves and their communities. Such people live in the pure light of the coming kingdom.
What does this look like in action? Let’s return to the village of Le Chambon and Magda Trocme, the village pastor’s wife during World War II. On a brutally cold night, a refugee showed up on her doorstep. Magda said, “Naturally, come in, come in.” When she went to the mayor for identification cards, he was shocked. He told her she was risking the whole village for a “foreigner” and demanded the woman leave by morning. This was the first of thousands. With the second refugee, Magda sought help from a French Jew, who responded with an equally narrow domain of love: “A German Jew? It is because of the foreign Jews that our French Jews are persecuted.”
Again, she heard the hard line between “us” and “them.” The Trocmes learned they must conceal their help from authorities. To reveal it would be to betray the refugees. But concealment meant lying—making false identity and ration cards so refugees could survive in Vichy France. It meant changing the name Kohn to the French name “Colin.”
For Magda, this counterfeit work raised profound moral problems. Even 30 years after the war, she felt her integrity diminished, mourning what she called “our lost candor.” Yet she understood there was a price to pay—her own sense of “ethical purity”—in order to save lives. No person is ever ethically pure. We find ourselves sinning, harming some relationships through imperfect behavior, no matter our intentions.
Yet Magda felt anguish for the children who had to learn to lie. But as she reflected on this, she then interrupted herself: “Ah, nevermind! We had to help them quickly. We had to help them—or let them die.” Her daughter, Nelly, remembers it differently. She saw the situation with the clear eyes of youth. She saw that people were being helped in a desperate situation, and the children were convinced that what was happening in Le Chambon was right, simply right.
It’s not surprising that her husband, Andre Trocme, wrote this 30 years after the war:
“Jesus’ new commandment demands that we translate the rulership of God into everyday language through our bodies: Love your neighbor, serve him, heal him, even if this means breaking traditions or laws. The immediacy of this commandment liberates us from fears, from plans, from complicated orders issued by the state... One can joyfully serve others as well as refuse with the same joy any attempt on humanity’s existence.”
Trocme offers a biblical vision of what the church is meant to be: The world is the soil, the church is the sower [of God’s seeds of love and compassion and healing]. The world is a dark house, God’s people a candle. The world is a field where weeds and wheat grow side by side. The church is the mustard seed that becomes a tree to provide shelter. The church is the leaven mixed in to make the dough rise. The world is the earth, the church its salt and light.
Between the world and the church, there is no discontinuity— we are not separate, really, but the church’s function is clearly defined. It is not the world; it does not perform the world's tasks. The church is in the world, but not of it.
What a vision! What an invitation! The question today is: What does that action look like for us, as individuals and as a community?
[8 a.m. close: Do we have eyes to see? Lord, we believe. Help us to see.]
[11:15 close: Let’s take time to reflect on our particular vision in our small groups.]
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Discussion questions:
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Andre Trocme says: Jesus’ new commandment demands that we translate the rulership of God into everyday language through our bodies: Love your neighbor, serve him, heal him, even if this means breaking traditions or laws” (151).
- What “traditions or laws” can you imagine breaking to love, serve, or heal a neighbor in need?
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Trocme also says, “Nonviolence is less a matter of ‘not killing’ and more a matter of showing compassion, of saving and redeeming, of being a healing community.”
- How do you think St. Luke’s should live out this call today?
- Where is this already happening?
- Where can we grow in this work?
