After Reading 1,000 Books, These Are My Top 20

After graduating from law school in May of 2005, I began tracking each book I consumed (via reading and listening), rating each along the way. Odd, I know, but it’s how I’m wired. According to the StrengthsFinder assessment, one of my top five characteristics is Input, which means I like to collect information and ideas. Oh boy, do I. For the books in the Christian/Theology genre, and a few others, I didn’t merely read them—I highlighted the best insights and transferred those passages into word documents for later organization and analysis.

On January 14, 2023, I finished reading my 1,000th book, so I thought I’d memorialize the achievement by sharing some of my favorites. But before I do, here is a crude categorization of all 1,000 and some random stats, which I whipped up out of personal curiosity:

Adventure/Travel: 53 (5.3%)

Biography/History: 131 (13.1%)

Business/Leadership: 51 (5.1%)

Christian/Theology: 351 (35.1%)

Economics: 22 (2.2%)

Fiction: 14 (1.4%)

Investing/Personal Finance: 73 (7.3%)

Legal: 14 (1.4%)

Poker: 21 (2.1%)

Political Philosophy/Politics: 111 (11.1%)

Self-Improvement/Pop Psychology: 115 (11.5%)

Writing: 44 (4.4%)

Average number of books read per year: 56.5

Average number of books read per week: 1.1

Most books read in a single year: 120 in 2016

Longest book read: 1,492 pages (The Crucifixion of the Warrior God by Gregory A. Boyd)

Read vs. Listened: 667 vs. 333

Non-Fiction vs. Fiction: 98.6% vs. 1.4%

Most read authors:

• Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard: 13 (their Killing Series is fun historical listening)

• John Howard Yoder: 13

• N.T. Wright: 10

• Gregory A. Boyd: 8

With the caveat that I am fully aware of the subjective nature of this list, which depends not only upon my personal interests but also upon how those interests have evolved over the years (and they have evolved greatly), here are the books that made it into my top 2%, in no particular order:

The Slavery of Death by Richard Beck

This book was paradigm shifting for me. It introduced me to the idea that fear, particularly our fear of death, is the root of most, if not all, sin. On the most fundamental level, our fear of the things that may lead to death (e.g., not having enough resources to stay healthy and safe or enough power to protect ourselves from others who may threaten such resources) is why we humans so often act unlovingly towards others, so frequently use violence against others, and why self-sacrificial Christlike love is so difficult for us. There’s a reason the most repeated command in the entire Bible is “Do not be afraid.” Fear hinders love. Fear is the enemy.

Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey

Don’t read this book. Listen to it. Without McConaughey’s narration, this book likely wouldn’t be on this list. With his narration, I believe it’s humanly impossible to produce a book that is simultaneously more entertaining and insightful.

The Myth of a Christian Nation: How the Quest for Political Power is Destroying the Church by Gregory A. Boyd

All of Greg Boyd’s books are phenomenal, but this is my favorite. Granted, this topic is of particular interest to me as I’ve come to believe that the unofficial partnership between church and state is mainstream Christianity’s greatest blind spot, particularly in the West. About the only thing that left-leaning and right-leaning Christians agree on is that the church should, even must, pursue and wield political power for the common good. They disagree only on some of the ends to which such power should be employed. Neither side seems aware of the coercive, violence-based nature of governmental power (and how it conflicts with everything Jesus did and taught) nor of the negative effect that using it against others, however indirect such use is via political lobbying, has on the church’s witness. This book is a fantastic introduction to the incongruity between Christian discipleship and political power.

The Five Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts by Gary Chapman

This book occasionally gets a bad rap for being a bit cheesy (the book cover doesn’t help!), but it has 76,000+ reviews on Amazon with an average rating of 4.8 out of 5 for good reason. Love is the purpose of life, and this book will help you love and be loved, in very practical, everyday ways. It has me. In hindsight, the book’s lessons seem obvious, yet I didn’t see most of them before reading it.

Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

A classic and, for many years, my favorite book. But the more theology I read, the more this book drops in rank. It’s an excellent introductory book, which I still highly recommend, but it only goes so far. If you’ve spent much time studying theology, it likely won’t do much for you. If you haven’t, start here.

The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich by Timothy Ferriss

This side of heaven, time is all we have. This book is a master class on how to focus it, optimize it, enjoy it. Regardless of your work situation or goals, it will improve your life. It may even impact how you organize and spend the different phases of life, as it exposes the downsides to the traditional “deferred life plan” we all take for granted and presents intriguing alternatives to it, like the mini-retirement approach. As a bonus, if your brain tends to operate like that of an engineer, as mine does, you will especially love this book.

Your Money or Your Life: 9 Steps to Transforming Your Relationship With Money and Achieving Financial Independence by Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez

This book will improve your relationship with money. It does for personal finance what The 4-Hour Workweek does for time. Its premises are simple but invaluable. One of my favorite takeaways is the idea that you should find a meaningful, enjoyable career and then adjust your standard of living to it, instead of targeting a certain material standard of living and then finding a career that supports it, regardless of how meaningful and enjoyable it is. Seems simple enough, but my unthinking, default approach was the latter. I don’t regret my career choices, but I could have benefited from reading this book before college.

The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God by Dallas Willard

If you are looking for a deeper, more thorough overview of Christianity than what Mere Christianity provides, this is it. It is spot on in its theology and contains the best explanation of the Sermon on the Mount I’ve encountered.

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand

What a life! What a testament to the power of forgiveness! What a tale of spiritual redemption! Occasionally, reality truly is more incredible than fiction.

War Is a Force that Gives Us Meaning by Chris Hedges

This book is an antidote to the grossly misleading, tragic glorification of war that permeates popular culture, from Hollywood to government propaganda. War is an addictive drug, one that first intoxicates and then destroys the mind, body, and soul. In an honest society, every potential military recruit would be required to read this book before enlisting.

The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation: A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics by Richard B. Hays

Christianity Today named this book as one of the top 100 Christian books of the twentieth century. For the average Christian reader, it’s a bit less accessible than the other theology books on this list, but for any serious student of Christian ethics, it’s a must-read.

Mere Discipleship: Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World by Lee C. Camp

According to popular anecdote, Margaret Thatcher was participating in a policy meeting when she reached into her handbag, pulled out her copy of F.A. Hayek’s The Constitution of Liberty, slammed it down on the table, and proclaimed, “This is what I believe!” Well, to channel my inner Thatcher, this is what I believe! Not only is it the best book on Christian discipleship I’ve ever read, it’s also, in my humble opinion, one of the most underappreciated Christian books ever written.

The Coddling of the American Mind: How Good Intentions and Bad Ideas Are Setting Up a Generation for Failure by Jonathan Haidt and Greg Lukianoff

Men and women of integrity, mature, responsible, contributing members of society, are produced not by preparing the path for them (i.e., not by protecting them from every type of hardship and struggle, by sheltering them from opinions they disagree with, by convincing them they should blame everyone but themselves for their problems) but by preparing them for the path (i.e., by teaching them how to manage conflict and adversity, how to take responsibility for what they can and should control). Developing such skills and taking such responsibility is a necessary component of living a virtuous, meaningful, fulfilling life. One of the most destructive social trends today is the mainstream propagation of the belief that the average person is a helpless victim who should be shielded from life instead of trained to deal with it. Don’t buy it.

I Don't Have Enough Faith to be an Atheist by Norman L. Geisler and Frank Turek

Most people who believe that faith in the God of the Bible is ridiculous and irrational have never encountered a logical, philosophical, historical, evidence-based case for such faith. This book powerfully presents such a case. I understand the limits of this type of apologetics, but it has its place. If you are an intellectual skeptic, read this book.

Basic Economics: A Common Sense Guide to the Economy by Thomas Sowell

Ignorance of basic economics is so widespread it’s disheartening. Understanding just a few simple economic principles will open your eyes to the counter-productivity of so many political policies, many of them widely popular. Such knowledge may also cause you to stop harming others through such policies, or at least teach you how to help them more effectively. For example, here’s a key takeaway: There are no free lunches. Everything is a tradeoff and every policy harms someone. Many economic policies, like rent controls, are clearly more harmful than helpful to the very people they intend to benefit, particularly over the mid to long term. And even policies like the minimum wage harm many, if not most, of those they intend to help, often the most vulnerable.

The War of the Lamb: The Ethics of Nonviolence and Peacemaking by John Howard Yoder

I’ve read about everything Yoder published and this is my favorite. It’s better than his much more famous book The Politics of Jesus, although it’s also worth reading. Yoder’s The Original Revolution: Essays on Christian Pacifism is likewise excellent. If you are interested in exploring Christian pacifism, read all three. Start with The War of the Lamb, but skip the lengthy introduction, which isn’t worth the effort.

The Upside-Down Kingdom by Donald B. Kraybill

God’s kingdom, the one that Jesus inaugurated and calls us to embody here and now, is so counterintuitive to the ways of the world that it is difficult to conceptualize. This book will help you do precisely that. Enlightening. Challenging. Inspiring. Refreshing. If you’ve been turned off by the shallow, mundanity of mainstream Christianity in America today, give this book a look. Christianity is so much more, and so much more beautiful.

Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church and Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense and Simply Jesus: A New Vision of Who He Was, What He Did, and Why He Matters by N.T. Wright

Okay, so I cheated on this one by not picking a single book, but I have a complicated relationship with N.T. Wright’s writings. He is a relatively verbose, stream-of-consciousness writer, and for a somewhat structure-obsessed, succinctness-loving brain like mine, it’s difficult to fall in love with any single one of Wright’s books. That said, taken as a whole, his body of work has had an immense impact on my theology, and countless others. He is widely considered the most influential, prolific, and well-known New Testament scholar alive. So despite my cognitive incompatibility with his writing style, the payoff of engaging with his books has always been more than worth the trouble.

Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs by Johann Hari

Employing a journalistic approach, Hari examines the history and impact of the war on drugs through the stories of numerous drug war participants—warriors, users, dealers, addicts, counselors, etc. He weaves their lives together masterfully while also seamlessly incorporating just the right amount of scientific data, statistics, and public policy analysis. If you support the war on drugs, please, please read this book. The war on drugs is, in my semi-studied opinion, clearly more harmful than helpful.

Endangered Gospel: How Fixing the World is Killing the Church by John C. Nugent

Like Boyd’s The Myth of a Christian Nation, this book addresses the church’s role in society and history, particularly in regard to its relationship with political power. Should the church focus on fixing the world (i.e., on making it a more safe and more comfortable place) or instead on being a community that embodies God’s future kingdom as a foretaste of—and a sign pointing to—it? In other words, should we advance God’s kingdom by politically imposing it on others or by exemplifying it? Professor Nugent argues for the latter posture, one I have come to wholeheartedly agree with.

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Did Jesus Condone Soldiering?

One piece of biblical evidence frequently cited to justify violence is Jesus’s and his followers’ encounters with soldiers. The argument goes like this: because they interacted with soldiers in a friendly, sometimes even complimentary manner without condemning their occupation or instructing them to quit the military, they implicitly condoned soldiering, war, or militarism. Here are the three primary passages cited in connection to this claim:

John the Baptist’s Encounter

“What should we do then?” the crowd asked.

John answered, “Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”

Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”

“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them.

Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”

He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.” (Luke 3:10-14)

Jesus’s Encounter

When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help. “Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed, suffering terribly.”

Jesus said to him, “Shall I come and heal him?”

The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”

When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that moment. (Matt. 8:5-13)1

Luke’s Encounter

At Caesarea there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion in what was known as the Italian Regiment. He and all his family were devout and God-fearing; he gave generously to those in need and prayed to God regularly. (Acts 10:1-2)

For numerous reasons, these passages do not justify any Christian use of, or participation in, violence. To begin with, none of them say anything positive about soldiering. Neither John nor Jesus nor Luke complimented the soldiers’ profession or professional behavior in any way, shape, or form. Instead, Jesus praised the centurion’s faith and Luke his devotion to God, his fear of God, his charity, and his habitual prayer to God. In doing so, they both praised wholly nonviolent attributes, ones that have nothing to do with soldiering.

In fact, neither Jesus nor Luke said anything, good or bad, about the centurions’ profession or professional conduct. Both merely identified the person as a soldier and stopped there. They didn’t turn his profession into a topic of discussion or use the encounter as an opportunity to debate the ethical merits of serving as a member of an occupying military force.

John the Baptist, on the other hand, praised nothing about the soldiers but condemned two of their professional practices, both of which were violent. He instructed them to not extort money and to not dispense false accusations. Note that he didn’t tell them to use violence for good, to extort money to give to the poor. So yes, maybe John didn’t condemn all violence or tell them to leave the military when he had the chance, but he did condemn two specific violent behaviors, ones that might have made it practically impossible for them to continue being soldiers had they followed his advice. And maybe it did. Maybe they obeyed him and doing so caused them to quit. The Bible doesn’t say.

Also bear in mind that John’s encounter with the soldiers occurred prior to Jesus’s public ministry, so the full extent of Jesus’s nonviolent message had not yet been revealed. John knew almost nothing of Christian ethics. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t issue a more blanket condemnation of all violence. Or maybe he didn’t do so because the two soldiers he was talking to were of the less violent type. Maybe they carried weapons but performed more of a police function, only ever using force to restrain local lawbreakers. The passage doesn’t tell us much about them. If anything, the nature of John’s comments suggests they may have been more like modern-day police officers than modern-day soldiers. Typically police officers, not soldiers, accuse people of crimes. Typically police officers, not soldiers, enforce taxes and therefore have the opportunity to extort.

It’s also worth noting that a few English translations interpret John’s words in this passage as a condemnation of all violence. For example, the King James Bible, Webster’s Bible Translation, and the English Revised Version all translate John as saying, “Do violence to no man.” Similarly, Young’s Literal Translation says “Do violence to no one.”

Of course, Jesus, John, and Luke all wanted the soldiers they encountered to cease all of their sinning in every area of their lives, but condemning their shortcomings wasn’t the point of the interactions. Jesus and Luke condemned nothing, and John only condemned two behaviors because the soldiers asked him to. Surely Jesus and Luke didn’t intend for their lack of condemnation to imply that the soldiers were sinless or to be read as endorsing everything the soldiers did. Surely John wasn’t providing a comprehensive list of everything the soldiers needed to change to achieve perfect righteousness. It is well known that part of an ancient Roman soldier’s normal duties included taking part in various pagan ceremonies and other idolatrous practices, but Jesus, John, and Luke never condemned the soldiers for that.2 Surely their silence as to all the other sinful behaviors the soldiers regularly engaged in, whether personal or professional, wasn’t an endorsement of those behaviors. So why do we think it was an endorsement of violence?

Likewise, Jesus interacted with many other sinners in a similar manner, but we don’t interpret those encounters as endorsing their lifestyles, behaviors, or professions. For example, when a known sinner washed Jesus’s feet with her hair, the Pharisees rebuked her while Jesus welcomed her and complimented her faith, all without condemning her.3 Jesus interacted with a Samaritan woman who had been divorced five times and was living with a man who was not her husband, but he didn’t condemn her for those things.4 Jesus told the temple priests that “the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you” (Matt. 21:31). Jesus invited a violent zealot named Simon to be one of his twelve disciples, a member of his inner circle and one of the few who would represent him to the wider world after his death, but there’s no evidence Jesus first made it known what he thought about Simon’s profession. And as far as we know, Jesus never even condemned the soldiers who crucified him.5 “In fact, with the exception of the Jewish leaders of his day,” notes Boyd, “Jesus never pointed out the things that he did not condone in other people’s lives.”6

So should we conclude that Jesus endorsed sexual promiscuity, serial divorce, tax exploitation, prostitution, violent religious zealotry, and the crucifixion of innocent people? Obviously not. If Luke had identified Cornelius as a member of a well-known band of thieves instead of as a centurion in the Italian Regiment, no one would suggest he had endorsed organized crime. But if we applied the same method of interpretation as those who believe the soldier encounters endorse violence, we would have to.

Put yourself in Jesus’s sandals for a moment. Have you ever been friendly to and complimentary of a known sinner without condemning their well-known sin? Ever spoken an encouraging word to someone you knew had just been caught committing adultery or someone who was engaged in a publicly visible struggle with another sin? By not condemning their known sin, did you intend to endorse it?7

Jesus’s welcoming, encouraging, and loving posture toward all types of sinners was not an endorsement of any sinner’s immoral behavior or profession. Instead, it was a demonstration of how to love others, even enemies. Roman soldiers were, after all, a prominent adversary of the Jewish people.

By praising the soldiers’ positive attributes and not condemning their negative ones (unless asked to do so), Jesus, John, and Luke were also practicing effective evangelism. Remember, they were welcoming and encouraging potential converts, not engaging veteran believers in nuanced ethical discussions. The two call for different approaches. Searching and seeking must be fostered with compliments, not discouraged with rebukes. Wise evangelism finds common ground, praises it, and establishes a loving relationship before it broaches the subject of condemnable conduct. It meets people where they are and focuses on the fundamentals, like faith, which lay the foundation for behavioral change. Condemning someone first only turns them off, makes them defensive, and further alienates them.

Jesus’s approach to evangelism was a key difference between him and the Pharisees. While the Pharisees unhesitatingly condemned strangers for their sinful lifestyles, Jesus went out of his way not to. The Pharisees rejected people until they cleaned up their act, but Jesus welcomed them as they were, broken and imperfect. Jesus didn’t reserve his love for those who appeared to have their act together. That’s why the tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners were drawn to him and why he spent so much time with them. On more than one occasion, the Pharisees condemned Jesus for how frequently and non-judgmentally he interacted with such sinners, even going so far as accusing him of gluttony and drunkenness.8

Simply put, we should view Jesus’s refusal to condemn the soldiers’ profession as good evangelism, not as endorsing violence. He refrained from condemning it not because he approved of it but because he knew condemnation would have been counterproductive at that stage in the soldier’s faith journey.

This whole situation is ironic. We all recognize that the Pharisees were wrong to accuse Jesus of endorsing things like prostitution, drunkenness, gluttony, and exploitative taxation just because he welcomed, encouraged, and mingled with such people without condemning their sinful behaviors and lifestyles. But those who interpret Jesus, John, and Luke as endorsing violence, soldiering, or militarism because they praised the faith of a soldier without condemning his sinful behavior or lifestyle are making the same mistake. Like the Pharisees, they are erroneously associating Jesus and his disciples with the sinful behaviors of the fallen, broken, searching individuals they embraced and nurtured.

Indeed, one purpose of these soldier encounters was to condemn the Pharisaical way of viewing the world and do what Jesus did on so many occasions: turn commonly accepted power dynamics and prejudices upside down. Jesus was proclaiming that the gospel doesn’t discriminate, that it welcomes all, that no one is unredeemable, and that it can reach and change even the unlikeliest types of people—even soldiers. Jesus had made that same point regarding tax collectors and prostitutes when he told the religious leaders in the temple that such people were entering the kingdom of God ahead of them.9 Now he was making the point with another despised group: Roman occupiers.

Notice whom Jesus was directly addressing when he praised the centurion’s faith. It wasn’t the centurion—it was the crowd of Israelites following him. He turned to them and said, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.” Then he informed the crowd that many of the people they think are not a part of God’s kingdom, are, and many who think they are, aren’t. Jesus was juxtaposing the faith of “outsiders” against the faith of the self-proclaimed “insiders.” He was putting the self-righteous Israelites in their place and condemning their prejudices. He was breaking down the antiquated religious barriers between Jews and Gentiles. In other words, he identified the centurion as a soldier to establish him as a despised outsider, not to praise soldiering or endorse violence.

One more quick observation. This one is about correct argumentation: To conclude that Jesus’s silence about the soldier’s profession was an endorsement of violence is to make an argument from silence. It is to deduce a conclusion from what isn’t said, to interpret his silence as something more than mere silence, as a message.

Arguments from silence are risky business. More often than not, they are fallacious. So often, in fact, there’s an official logical fallacy called the Argument from Silence Fallacy.

To be legitimate, an argument from silence must be supported by overwhelming contextual evidence. The surrounding circumstances must strongly suggest that the silence is saying something. For example, when a politician who is known for his transparent honesty, no matter the cost, and for aggressively denying all false accusations, is unexpectedly asked during a press conference whether he’s had an affair and he responds by frowning, shamefully lowering his head, and somberly walking off stage without saying a word, it’s reasonable to conclude that his silence communicated an affirmative answer. Even then, however, such an interpretation is rebuttable if additional context can provide a better explanation for his silence. Maybe he hadn’t even heard the question because he was preoccupied with reading a text on his phone that was sitting on the podium, a distracting text informing him his child had just been involved in a serious car wreck.

Without overwhelming contextual evidence, an argument from silence can justify anything, as Andy Alexis-Baker explains:

Since Jesus did not rebuke Pilate for being a governor of an occupying force, he must have sanctioned the Roman occupation and their right to exploit weaker nations, and by extension all colonial and military expansions. Since he did not ask Zacchaeus to leave his job as a tax collector, he must have approved of Roman tax collection and their right to drain resources from an area to the wealthy elite in Rome. Since Jesus did not admonish Pilate for murdering some Galileans in the midst of their sacrifices (Luke 13:3), he sanctioned police brutality and severe repressive measures. Since Jesus did not tell the judges at his own trial that they were wrong for their irregular court proceedings, he sanctions kangaroo courts and dictatorships today. Since Jesus did not reprove the centurion for owning slaves, he therefore condones slavery, even today. These arguments from silence can make Jesus to be the advocate of whatever we want.… The point is that we have to base our analysis of this text on what Jesus says to the centurion, on the entire narrative that Matthew weaves, and even more broadly, on the picture that the New Testament paints of Jesus in regard to nonviolence.10

In our situation, there’s no contextual evidence to support an endorsement of soldiering, violence, or militarism. Nothing else Jesus, John, or Luke said or did in the immediate context or throughout the rest of the New Testament suggests that they were endorsing or ever had endorsed such things.

On the contrary, when we look at the broader context, as I did at length in my book Jesus the Pacifist: A Concise Guide to His Radical Nonviolence, the evidence suggests a contradictory conclusion: Jesus and his disciples not only didn’t endorse violence, but they actually condemned it. For that matter, if there’s a valid argument from silence to be made here, it’s that Jesus’s silence regarding the soldier’s profession was a condemnation of it, not an endorsement. Jesus entered the encounter with an antiviolence reputation. Had he wanted to amend his reputation into something less than complete antiviolence, this was the perfect opportunity. That he chose not to compliment the soldier’s profession in an otherwise friendly and complimentary encounter implies that he didn’t approve of it. That he didn’t seize this easy opportunity to qualify his total pacifism is further evidence of his total pacifism.

Here’s another way to look at the self-defeating nature of an argument from silence in this situation. No one argues that Jesus’s, John’s, or Luke’s silence endorsed all types of soldiering, violence, and war. Even those who suggest they generally endorsed soldiering as a profession don’t claim they endorsed all types of soldiering, like participation in genocidal conquest. So here’s the problem: the only way to know where to draw the line between the types of soldiering their silence endorsed and the types it didn’t endorse is to bring context into our analysis. And when we look at the context in this situation, we are forced to conclude that their silence wasn’t an endorsement at all.

Lasserre made this same point from a slightly different angle. Given that the centurion was a soldier in an occupying force, he asked how someone can justify maintaining a defensive army if they conclude that Jesus’s silence endorsed the centurion’s profession:

Those who make so much play with these four “silences,” and deduce therefrom that the profession of arms is legitimate, do not seem so keen to deduce that the military occupation of a foreign country is legitimate (seeing that these soldiers had come to Palestine as troops of the occupation). If it is legitimate, why do we need a (defensive) army? The justification of military service is destroyed at its roots. And if not, why do they refuse this second deduction, having accepted the first?11

Unfortunately, even some of the most prominent theologians to ever live (e.g., Saint Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and Martin Luther) fell victim to the Argument from Silence Fallacy in their interpretations of these soldier encounters. Nonetheless, the encounters do not justify violence. Jesus didn’t endorse everything he didn’t condemn. He endorsed only what he said he endorsed: faith. Concluding otherwise is a classic case of reading too much of our own fallen agenda into a situation where it doesn’t belong.

There are a dozen lessons to be learned from the soldier encounters, but the compatibility of soldiering and violence with the way of Jesus is not one of them.

Footnotes:

1. See also Luke 7:1-10.

2. Similarly, it is also well known that the Romans used tax revenue to fund much injustice (like the gladiator games in which Christians were slaughtered and the operation of blatantly idolatrous, cultic temples), but instead of telling the tax collectors to stop collecting taxes, John only instructed them to not collect more than was required, so should we conclude that he endorsed such injustices?

3. Luke 7:36-50.

4. John 4:7-26.

5. Matt. 27:26-35.

6. Gregory A. Boyd, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God: Interpreting the Old Testament’s Violent Portraits of God in Light of the Cross, Volumes 1 & 2 (Fortress Press, 2017), 13244, Kindle.

7. It might help to place these encounters in a more relatable, less emotionally charged context. Pretend you’ve got a pacifistic friend named Frank. One day you are walking through the mall with Frank and you run into Barry, a friend of yours who is a soldier wearing his uniform. You engage in a minute of small chat and then introduce him to Frank. They also chat for a bit, during which Barry reveals he just celebrated twenty years of marriage with his first and only wife. Frank congratulates Barry and then turns to you and says, “Boy, I wish more of my friends were as committed to their wives as Barry is to his. Most of them have already been divorced two or three times.” Did Frank endorse Barry’s profession or the use of violence? Was Frank’s refusal to go out of his way to condemn the profession of a guy he’d just met an implicit approval of it?

8. Luke 5:29-31; 7:33-34; 15:1-4; 19:1-10; Mark 2:15-17; Matt. 9:10-13; 11:18-19.

9. Matt. 21:31-32.

10. Andy Alexis-Baker, A Faith Not Worth Fighting For: Addressing Commonly Asked Questions about Christian Nonviolence (The Peaceable Kingdom Series), ed. Tripp York and Justin Bronson Barringer (Cascade Books, 2012), 3658, Kindle.

11. Jean Lasserre, War and the Gospel, trans. Oliver Coburn (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 1998), 54.

This article is an excerpt from Jesus the Pacifist: A Concise Guide to His Radical Nonviolence.

Why Did Jesus Say He Came to Bring Not Peace But a Sword?

In Matthew 10:34, Jesus said, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Non-pacifists often cite this statement to justify the use of violence, but for numerous reasons, it doesn’t. To see why, we simply need to review its biblical context—immediate, intermediate, and broad.

The immediate context below indicates that Jesus was speaking figuratively about the division he and his message would cause, rather than literally about a sword.

Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn “a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—a man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.” Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it. (Matt. 10:34-39)

Luke’s account makes the figurative nature of the metaphor even clearer by using the word division instead of sword: “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division. From now on there will be five in one family divided against each other, three against two and two against three” (Luke 12:51-52).

The Bible frequently uses a sword to symbolize the Word of God (i.e., truth), often in the context of conflict and division. When encouraging the Ephesians to “put on the full armor of God” so they can “stand against the devil’s schemes,” Paul told them that “the sword of the Spirit … is the word of God” (Eph. 6:10, 17). The author of Hebrews declares that “the word of God” is “sharper than any double-edged sword,” and that “it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow” (Heb. 4:12). The book of Revelation depicts a “sharp, double-edged sword” actually “coming out of [Jesus’s] mouth,” which implies that it represents words or truth (Rev. 1:16). Revelation likewise portrays Jesus threatening to fight the unrepentant “with the sword of [his] mouth” (Rev. 2:16). Why shouldn’t we interpret the sword in Matthew 10:34 as another reference to the Word of God, a declaration that Jesus came to bring and wield the truth?1

Experience confirms that the gospel message can be divisive. Loving your enemies, for example, often angers your allies. It’s often interpreted as an act of disloyalty and can divide those who are united primarily by their common opposition to someone or something. If you doubt this, express love for your nation’s enemies and observe how most of your fellow countrymen react. The same goes for family bonds: ask a Christian convert born into a family of Muslims, Hindus, or Buddhists what impact their conversion had on those relationships.

The intermediate context reveals that Jesus made this statement in the middle of preparing his disciples to take his message into the wider world. He was warning them about the personal sacrifices they would have to make to fulfill their mission. Just a few verses earlier, he had told them he was sending them “out like sheep among wolves” (v. 16), instructed them not to fear “those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul” (v. 28), and warned them they would be hated and violently persecuted (vv. 17, 22).2 Now he was telling them that discipleship could also cost them their families, and maybe even their lives.

Therefore, as Richard Hays observes, “If we are to think at all of any literal sword … we will immediately see that the disciples of Jesus are to be its victims rather than its wielders.”3 David W. Bercot explains: “Sheep don’t carry swords, and they don’t slay wolves. Rather, it’s the wolves that do the slaying. Jesus was telling His apostles that they needed to be ready to die for Him.”4

Jesus prioritized the gospel message above everything else, even familial and social peace. He declared the embodiment of God’s kingdom, not relational harmony or social stability, to be the highest ideal. He proclaimed that he came to bear witness to the truth, not to absolve all conflict by whatever means necessary. Jesus was and is concerned with establishing true peace on earth through reconciliation, not with imposing the shallow, fleeting peace that results from violent control. This is why Paul writes, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Rom. 12:18). Sometimes peace isn’t desirable—for instance, when it requires denying the gospel or collaborating with injustice.

Of course, Jesus wasn’t encouraging division. He was only pointing out that pledging supreme allegiance to his kingdom would occasionally produce it. Jim Forest summarizes:

The “sword” referred to here is not a deadly weapon but a symbol of the fractures that often occur within families and between friends when one chooses to live a life shaped by the Gospel. Jesus is … saying that the way of life he proposes will at times be a cause of discord that may even cut into the closest relationships.5

Everything else Jesus says and does (the broad context of this quote) also reveals he isn’t speaking about a literal sword. Nothing in the Bible indicates Jesus ever even touched a sword during his life, let alone came for the purpose of using one. As Hays notes, Jesus’s statement about bringing a sword must be interpreted “within the story of a Messiah who refuses the defense of the sword and dies at the hands of a pagan state that bears the power of the sword. The whole New Testament comes rightly into focus only within this story.”6

Jesus used similar figurative hyperbole on many other occasions to stress the radical commitment he requires of his followers: “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away…. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away” (Matt. 5:29-30).7 “And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven” (Matt. 23:9). “Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God” (Matt. 19:24). “[Jesus] said to another man, ‘Follow me.’ But he replied, ‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God’” (Luke 9:59-60).8

Jesus’s statement about hating our family and life may be the most instructive: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-27). Jesus didn’t want us to literally abhor our families or lives. He wasn’t overturning the Fifth Commandment to honor our parents, which he and Paul both affirmed elsewhere.9 Instead, he was speaking about priorities, about total commitment and the cost of discipleship. He used the verb hate not to encourage hostility but to warn against developing idolatrous loyalties.

Accordingly, just as Jesus’s instruction to hate our families and lives was a hyperbolic and figurative demand for total allegiance, so was his declaration that he came to bring not peace but a sword. He didn’t bring a literal sword of violence. He brought a figurative sword of prioritization.

Lastly, even if we interpret Jesus’s sword statement literally, it still doesn’t justify our use of violence. If we are going to ignore all context and be literal, let’s be literal. Jesus was talking about his use of the sword, not ours. He said he came to earth to bring a sword, not teach us to use one. In fact, he didn’t even say he came to use a sword. He said he came to bring one. Furthermore, he came to bring only a sword, not knives, guns, nunchucks, or bombs. He said sword, not weapons. And he came to bring a sword for the purpose of dividing families—nothing else.

Consequently, the only way we can get from “Jesus came to bring a sword to divide families” to “Christians may use various types of violent weapons to do things other than divide families” is to ignore the literal interpretation and the actual context of his statement and instead just make something up. As usual, I like how Hays puts it: “To read this verse as a warrant for the use of violence by Christians is to commit an act of extraordinary hermeneutical violence against the text.”10 Or as Greg Boyd writes, “The use of this passage to justify violence rather reflects the extreme exegetical lengths to which people will go to give divine authority to their own violent agendas.”11 Indeed. It’s almost like concluding that Psalm 14:1 asserts, “There is no God,” although the entire sentence reads “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”

Regardless of whether we interpret the passage literally or figuratively, it doesn’t justify our use of violence. To interpret it literally is to justify Jesus’s possession of a sword, not our own use of one. To interpret it non-literally is to invoke its context, which reveals that Jesus wasn’t even talking about violence. He was speaking figuratively about the division that proclaiming the truth and prioritizing allegiance to him inevitably cause, even within families. Had he intended to provide a justification for violence, he would have done so much more clearly, particularly in light of the contradictory immediate, intermediate, and broader contexts of his statement.

Footnotes:

1. David W. Bercot also points out that in ancient times, “a sword served two purposes,” one being “the use we normally think of … in warfare, where the sword was used for killing” and the other being “a tool for cutting or dividing.” See The Kingdom that Turned the World Upside Down (Scroll Publishing Company, 2003), 1325, Kindle.

2. See also Matt. 24:9; John 15:20; Luke 21:12, 16-17; and Mark 13:13.

3. Richard Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation; A Contemporary Introduction to New Testament Ethics (HarperOne, 2013), 9315, Kindle.

4. David W. Bercot, The Kingdom that Turned the World Upside Down (Scroll Publishing Company, 2003), 1325, Kindle.

5. Jim Forest, Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment (Orbis Books, 2014), 2452, Kindle.

6. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament, 9451.

7. See also Matt. 18:9-9 and Mark 9:43-47.

8. For Matthew’s account, see Matt. 8:21-22. For a different but similar encounter, see Luke 9:61-62.

9. Exod. 20:12; Matt. 15:1-6; 19:1-19; Mark 10:17-19; Luke 18:18-20; Eph. 6:1-3; Col. 3:20.

10. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament, 9318.

11. Gregory A. Boyd, The Crucifixion of the Warrior God: Interpreting the Old Testament’s Violent Portraits of God in Light of the Cross, Volumes 1 & 2 (Fortress Press, 2017), 13150, Kindle.

This article is an excerpt from Jesus the Pacifist: A Concise Guide to His Radical Nonviolence.