Hello my friends, I pray this finds you well. Almost daily, I will receive messages and comments online about how my preaching and writing opens the door to "coddling sin" and how being "too compassionate" to those they define as sinners will is a form of cruelty. So, today I wanted to process this sentiment with you and hopefully navigate our way through this concept to a productive way of responding when we hear it brought up in conversations. Resources to Consider:-A Deep-Rooted Marriage with Dan Allender by Three Percent Podcast. Along with Pride Month, June is also Men's Mental Health Awareness Month. In light of that, I wanted to tell you about Three Percent. It is a Men’s Mental Health Community that explores the often-overlooked emotional and relational needs of men. Their podcast, co-hosted by licensed therapists, fathers, and best friends offers an authentic, raw, and therapeutic look at topics like vulnerability, emotional health, and relational healing. The show provides thought-provoking and vulnerable convos with experts on how to overcome shame, communicate effectively, and foster meaningful relationships with Self, God, and Others. I couldn't think more highly of the work they are doing. I was honored to be a guest on this podcast and will share it here once it is published. -The Democrats’ 20-Million-Dollar-Man Problem by David French. Continuing on the theme of masculinity, David French wrote an insightful article (as usual) about how masculinity is often imagined and approached by the political ideologies of our time. I highly recommend giving it a read. -Politics and Faith, Extending Grace, and a Church Fused with Empire by Down To Earth Conversations. I had a wonderful conversation with my friend Andy Dickson, who hosts this wonderful podcast. With him being in New Zealand, we covered everything from pastoral ministry to how different political conversations can be in our different contexts. I'd love for you to give it a listen ant let me know what you think. -My response to: “It’s Not the Government’s Job to Help the Poor—It’s the Church’s!” I wanted to share a kind of bonus newsletter with you today as well. I have received this comment so many times and have had so many people asking me how to respond to this statement that I wrote a response in an article that can be easily shared with others. I hope you find it helpful. -Why It Isn't Biblical To Fight About Rainbows. With it being Pride Month, I also wanted to share this article that takes a look at the use of rainbows as symbolism throughout history, different religions, different cultures, and of course in the Bible. I then encourage us as followers of Jesus to follow God's intention of peace in the promise of the rainbow as we encounter other rainbows in our culture today. “One person’s compassion is another person’s coddling sin.”Recently, someone commented on a post of mine where I was emphasizing our need to care more about cruelty than we do about people being “too compassionate.” The commenter wrote, “One man’s ‘compassion’ is another man’s ‘coddling sin’. By all your writing, it’s clear that you coddle sin.” Another commenter chimed in right after to say, “Too much compassion towards certain people is a form of cruelty as it allows immorality and dependency to run rampant.” As you have probably seen, sentiments like these have become extremely popular in some Christian circles that are deeply concerned with moral clarity and doctrinal purity. Recent books with titles such as “The Sin of Empathy” and “Toxic Empathy” have been written by prominent Christian figures to reinforce this sentiments as well. On the surface, it may appear to be a wise warning against moral and theological laxity. But beneath the surface, this sentiment reveals a troubling departure from the heart of the gospel and the example of Jesus Christ. In fact, when held up to the light of the cross, this idea not only distorts the nature of compassion—it fundamentally misunderstands what it means to be Christlike. Jesus died for everyone, including sinners. Let's begin with this central truth: Jesus Christ died for everyone, including sinners. Paul in Romans 5:8 declares, “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Jesus’ ultimate act of love and compassion came not after repentance, not after behavior modification, and certainly not in response to moral purity—but while the world was still in sin. The cross is not God rewarding the righteous, but God entering the depth of human brokenness and rescuing even the most unworthy. That is what grace looks like. So, if we apply the logic of this sentiment to Jesus Himself, we are forced to conclude that He “coddled” sin by loving and dying for everyone, especially for sinners. By this standard, Jesus showed “too much compassion” when He ate with tax collectors and sinners (Mark 2:15-17), when he extended mercy to a thief on the cross without him first saying “I repent from my sins” (Luke 23:43), and asked God to forgive those who were nailing him to that cross (Luke 23:34). By this logic, the gospel itself is dangerously permissive. Biblically, compassion is not moral laxity—it is incarnational. As we see in the act of God becoming human, compassion is entering into the suffering and brokenness of others with mercy and solidarity (Philippians 2). God’s compassion is not weakness; it is the strength to suffer with, to carry burdens that are not your own, and to love those who cannot repay you. The idea that “too much compassion is cruelty” perpetuates a theological confusion. In God’s kingdom, judgment without mercy is the actual cruelty.“Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” (James 2:13) To suggest that loving others deeply to "approve of sin" is misleading. Jesus’ love never once required sin to be minimized—rather, it required sin to be carried, by Him, to the cross. The Arrogance of Self-Appointed Moral Authority I believe this sentiment also reveals a deeper issue: the arrogance of assuming a godlike position over the souls of others. Who are we to decide which person is worthy of mercy and which one must be excluded or rebuked? The presumption that we can stand as arbiters of the right “dose” of mercy implies that we see more clearly than Jesus, who poured out mercy in scandalous measure. This is the same mindset Jesus critiqued in the Pharisees, who accused Him of being “a friend of sinners” as if it were an insult. They saw His compassion as dangerous. But Jesus said to them plainly: “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” (Matthew 9:13) To stand in judgment over compassion is not a defense of holiness—it is a denial of grace. The gospel is not a moral reward system; it is an act of divine rescue. And no one who has truly grasped the mercy they have received in Christ can stand in prideful suspicion of the mercy extended to others. Rooted in Grievance and the Myth of Scarcity I believe that beneath this sentiment is actually less about theology and more about political and cultural grievance as well as the myth of scarcity. It is shaped less by the overflow of the gospel and more by a sense of loss: loss of status, loss of moral control, and loss of cultural power. It stems from the feeling that someone else is getting away with something. That the wrong people are being shown grace. That there won’t be enough to go around if “those people” are given the same freedoms enjoyed by the rest of us. But the mercy of God is not a limited resource. It is not a pie to be divided. It is an infinite fountain, poured out without measure. So, any theology that treats compassion as a zero-sum game has already departed from the good news of Jesus Christ that is freely offered to all. The irony is that this very resentment is a form of spiritual entitlement. It does not say, “God has been gracious to me, how can I extend that grace to others?” It says, “Those sinners need to repent before they can be worthy of compassion.” But the gospel of Jesus is not built on the demand that humanity must come to God. It is built on the radical event of God becoming human and coming to dwell with us out of love! Those who follow Jesus then do likewise. Rather than demand that the world come to Jesus, we instead embody Jesus in the world by living out his self giving love. Too Much Compassion Is Enabling Sin Now, there are still some who would respond to what I’ve just written with the argument—“too much compassion to the immoral is a form of cruelty”—which frames compassion as a form of enabling. It suggests that mercy might harm someone by not confronting their wrongdoing forcefully enough. But here’s how I have responded to this argument theologically in the past: 1. Compassion is not the opposite of transformation—it’s the context for it. True compassion doesn’t ignore sin; it enters into the condition of the sinner with love. Jesus entered our broken world and always led with mercy. Jesus so often healed before he instructed, forgave before someone even gave voice to their transgressions, and His harshest rebukes were not towards those many considered “immoral,” but towards the self-righteous gatekeepers of grace. If the fear is that compassion will lead people away from truth, then we misunderstand the power of compassion itself. Paul writes in Romans 2:4 that it is God’s kindness that leads us to repentance. Not shame. Not social pressure. Not moral toughness. Kindness. 2. Cruelty isn’t in too much compassion—it’s in withholding it. Withholding compassion in the name of “truth” often creates a version of Christianity that drives people away from the very source of their healing. It hardens hearts instead of softening them. Think of the parable of the prodigal son. If the father had withheld compassion in order to “teach him a lesson,” when the younger son returned, what would have happened? Would the son have been restored? No. The father’s running embrace, his apparent foolishness, his “excessive” compassion—that was the turning point towards restoration. The only one offended by this show of grace in that story was the older brother, who represents the sentiments swirling in the religious community of Jesus’ time and ours today as well. 3. If “compassion” becomes cruelty, we’re using the wrong definition of compassion. Some use “compassion” to mean soft tolerance, avoidance, or enabling. But biblically, compassion is costly, truthful, honest, and deeply personal. Jesus’ compassion drove Him to confront injustice, to speak truth, and ultimately to bear the cross. If someone thinks compassion is cruelty, they may be reacting to a cheap substitute, not the real thing. True compassion is never passive—it’s transformative. It takes up its own cross. It doesn’t put others up on one. 4. Beware of the moral double standard. Too often, “compassion becomes cruelty” only when it is directed at certain kinds of people—especially those who are seen as socially unacceptable or politically loaded by many Christians today. But rarely does this concern arise when compassion is shown to who are socially acceptable or politically expedient. Take the contrast between the tragically hostile stance towards the LGBT community we have seen many Christians take in the name of “standing against sexual sin.” Yet many of these same voices will turn and say “God can use imperfect people” or “you are just causing division” to someone who calls out the sin of sexual abuse about their preferred politician or religious leaders. This selective outrage reveals that it’s not really about avoiding "enabling sin" at all—it’s about control, and about protecting a certain moral order that feels threatened by grace being given to the “wrong people.” 5. Jesus Himself would be condemned by this standard. If we’re being honest, the argument that “too much compassion is cruelty” would have made Jesus the villain in His own story. He loved those others avoided. He forgave before they asked. He kept the door open wider than anyone thought safe. And that is what got Him killed—not lawlessness, but too much mercy towards the kind of people those in power didn't approve of. So the question isn’t whether too much compassion is cruel. The question is: Do we trust the way of Jesus, or not? The cross is the ultimate scandal because it is the place where justice and mercy meet—not in perfect balance, but in perfect self-giving love. It is not safe. It is not neat. And it is not morally tidy. It is excessive, costly, and wildly compassionate. By the logic of the popular sentiment in question, the cross itself is a dangerous example of “coddling sinners.” But that is the very heart of our faith: “God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). If this isn’t radical compassion, what is? I believe we need to be very cautious before we try to draw a line between “compassion” and “coddling”—for that line may run through our own hearts. I believe it is better to err on the side of grace than to risk standing in opposition to the One who came not to condemn the world, but to save it. Responding in Conversation: 1. Ask what Jesus would do. Literally. Would Jesus say, “That’s too much compassion”? Would He say, “You’re loving them too much”? Use the gospel stories to reframe the conversation. 2. Name the fear underneath. Gently ask what people are afraid might happen if we love too much. Often the fear is about control, fairness, or losing influence. Naming that fear opens the door for grace to be shown. 3. Share your own story. Testify to when you received compassion you didn’t deserve—or when you witnessed mercy change someone’s life. Grace is contagious when it is made personal. 4. Shift the focus from control to communion. Remind others that the goal of the Christian life is not moral policing, but union with Christ and with one another. Compassion is the pathway to that communion. 5. Refuse the scarcity mindset. Say it clearly: “God’s mercy and provision isn’t running out.” Invite people to see the abundance of God, not just God’s boundaries. 6. Hold fast to Jesus. When all else fails, simply point to Jesus. If our theology of compassion doesn’t look like Jesus, it is time to reevaluate our belief system.
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I have spent the majority of my life in Evangelical Christian spaces. I have experienced a lot of church hurt. I now write to explore topics that often are at the intersection of politics and Christianity. My desire is to discover how we can move away from Christian nationalism, religious fundamentalism, and church hurt to reclaim the Gospel of Jesus together. I'm glad you're here to join the conversation. I look forward to talking with you.
My response to: “It’s Not the Government’s Job to Help the Poor—It’s the Church’s!” I’ve heard this phrase all my life—inside churches, outside churches, online, in political debates: “It’s not the government’s job to help the poor; it’s the church’s job.” I’ve been hearing it more and more lately from fellow Christians, especially in reaction to critiques of the so-called “Big Beautiful Bill” and the estimated harm it will cause to millions of Americans in the coming years. The sentiment is...
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Hello my friends, I hope this finds you doing well. Thanks for being here. Many of you have written to me about how heavy your hearts are over the sheer disregard we are seeing towards our fellow human beings, especially the most vulnerable among us. I am right there with you. Given all of this, I wanted to look together at how Matthew 10:29-31 was used during a newly established prayer service at the pentagon and encourage us all to continue raising our voices in solidarity with the least...