An Essential Truth
This post was inspired by Voxology Podcast: Home for the Spiritual Homeless. They introduce and explain what they mean by this important concept.
Today’s climate of political conflict, social unrest, and looming violence leaves many Christians feeling trapped between three equally troubling options: quietly submitting to unjust systems; reacting with a combative zeal that ends up repeating the very harm we oppose; or endorsing leaders who champion our favoured policies, while overlooking blatant deception, cruelty, and rhetorical contempt. Whether one is silent, combative, or complicit, the result is the same. The Church’s integrity and witness is either eroded or bartered away for the promise of political leverage or cultural security.
The problem deepens when believers defend their silence—or even their compliance—by quoting Romans 13:1-7, which begins, Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established.” Read in isolation, these verses sound like a divine order to obey any government, no questions asked. In practice, Christians often reach for it only when the policy in question lines up with their own politics, then quietly shelve it when it does not.
This selective and simplistic use of scripture misses Paul’s real point. Writing to first-century believers in Rome, Paul was addressing a particular pastoral dilemma, not rubber-stamping every regime for all time. The Greek wording he uses points to God endorsing the function of civil order—keeping basic peace—rather than guaranteeing the moral rightness of every ruler or law. Scripture backs this up elsewhere: Isaiah calls Assyria and Babylon the rod of [God’s] anger (Isa 10:5)—tools God temporarily wields to correct Israel and later condemns for their brutality. A particular government may rise, but that is hardly a divine seal of approval.
A quick tour through the rest of the Bible confirms this nuance. Shiphrah and Puah, Hebrew midwives, defied Pharaoh’s genocide decree in Exodus 1; Daniel refuses a royal decree to worship a golden idol in Daniel 6; Rahab lied to civil authorities to protect Israelite spies in Joshua 2; Peter and John ignore governing authorities to preach about Jesus in Acts 4; and the entire book of Revelation portrays empire as a beast set against God’s people. The pattern is clear: obedience to rulers is never absolute. Christians submit only so long as their deeper loyalty to Jesus remains intact; when state power contradicts the gospel, faithful dissent—not blind allegiance—is the scriptural norm.
Even if we simply look deeper into the book of Romans and Paul’s teachings as a whole, we find that Paul’s broader argument is that Christians should live peaceably with everyone, overcome evil with good, and recognize that God’s higher law takes precedence when civil authorities exceed their just limits.
So, what now?
Taken together, these biblical threads point us toward a third way of dealing with unjust governments: what theologian Dallas Willard calls joyful non-compliance. Rather than lapsing into silent submission or lashing out in anger, Christians can refuse unjust demands with a confidence rooted in God’s coming renewal—and do so with creativity, courage, and even joy.
Jesus himself set the pattern. As he hung on the cross, he could have summoned legions of angels to avenge him, yet he chose not to as the ultimate demonstration that his kingdom would not come into existence through force or violence, but through humility and personal sacrifice.
The entire New Testament echoes this truth: violence cannot drive out evil. The idea good people can somehow use violence or coercion to overcome evil is a mindset that Jesus and all of the New Testament witnesses explicitly rejected.
In fact, Jesus was adamant that non-violence and peacemaking are not optional virtues but a real and expected way of living in a violent world made possible by his death and resurrection—an essential way of life for anyone who claims to follow him.
Practised this way, joyful non-compliance is a sign of hope, not despair. When believers offer sanctuary to undocumented neighbours despite punitive laws or peacefully obstruct authorities seeking to arrest and deport immigrants and refugees with disdain for their welfare, they are enacting—right now—the world Christ has promised will one day be fully realized.
What does this look like in practice?
Ideally, joyful non-compliance is not the lone effort of a few brave souls. It should be a shared response in which whole congregations shoulder one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2) and model creative, non-violent forms of resistance that look unmistakably Jesus-shaped. Instead of merely objecting to what is wrong, the church imagines and enacts what is right—together. Here are a few ways that collective, hope-filled resistance might look:
- Open sanctuary networks. Churches fling their doors wide to asylum seekers, even when local ordinances say otherwise.
- Peaceful sit-ins. Believers stage calm, prayerful blockades at sites that embody oppression.
- Public revival-style gatherings. Outdoor worship and teaching events shine a spotlight on unjust policies.
- Grass-roots safety nets. Congregations band together to offer meals, shelter, and medical help when government programs disappear.
- Prayer in the public square. Regular, visible prayer meetings signal that true authority lies with God, not unjust rulers.
- Teaching for dissent. Sermon series and study groups explore biblical prophets, empire-critiques, and the church’s counter-cultural vocation.
- Liturgies of lament. Corporate lament becomes a spiritual discipline that keeps compassion and endurance alive.
- Kingdom-style alternatives. Cooperative housing, community gardens, free clinics, and learning collectives quietly ignore licensing or zoning barriers that stifle mercy.
In every case, the goal is the same: to resist injustice without becoming unjust ourselves, even if it means breaking unjust laws, and to preview—right here and now—the just and joyful kingdom Christ has promised.
Why call this resistance joyful?
Because Christian faith insists on holding joy and grief in the same hands, rejecting both gloomy resignation and frantic despair. Christian joy is not a burst of good feelings or naïve optimism. In the New Testament the word is tied to charis—grace—signalling a deep-seated confidence that God’s purposes will prevail. It is the quiet resolve captured by Habakkuk 3:17-18: Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines…yet I will rejoice in the Lord.
This type of joy is anything but escapist. It steadies our resolve, letting us face injustice with clear eyes, mourn what is broken, and still refuse bitterness or violence. It gives us the inner strength to protest wrongs while clinging to hope, knowing that God’s redemption story is not stalled by the darkness we confront.
Why non-compliance?
Because, done rightly, refusing unjust demands is not a fringe tactic—it is a natural outflow of a life aligned with God’s Spirit. Paul calls the marks of that life the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23): love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We often read the list as private virtues, but they are meant to shape our public life together as well.
A church formed by love and joy is one animated by God’s grace, not by private emotion. Peace, kindness, and self-control should show up as concrete acts that serve others and actively push back against abuses of power. When Christians non-violently defy oppression, they put love and joy on display right where hostile structures try to crush them. In other words, our resistance is less about righteous outrage and more about the Spirit’s steady strength working through us.
Why does all this matter so much?
Because Christian obedience is not confined to personal salvation or security. It is about living out God’s justice in public, here and now—and that means our submission to governing authorities can never be blind or unconditional.
From start to finish, the Bible shows God’s people and Jesus himself speaking truth to power. Old-Testament prophets confronted kings who crushed the poor, and New-Testament disciples refused any loyalty that harmed the least of these (Matthew 25:31-46). Whenever a governing system threatens the vulnerable, silences dissent, or demonizes its critics, Christians are called to rise above it—not blend in.
Jesus is blunt: whatever we do—or fail to do—for society’s most overlooked people is counted as done to him. That alone rules out passive or even active compliance with policies that injure migrants, minorities, or the poor.
The third commandment drives the point home: Do not misuse the name of the Lord your God (Exodus 20:7). When political agendas get wrapped in Christian language to justify coercion, violence, or scapegoating, God’s name is being taken in vain. That isn’t clever strategy; it is idolatry and blasphemy. In the same verse, God promises he will not hold guiltless anyone who misuses his name.
So Christian faithfulness cannot stop at personal salvation. It must overflow into qualified, discerning obedience—an obedience willing to resist, protest, and protect when any authority betrays the God-given dignity of others.
In conclusion In a fractured age, joyful non-compliance offers a theologically robust means of faithful dissent. It refuses both the fatalism that submits uncritically to authority and the violence that mirrors worldly powers. Grounded in the deep joy of God’s grace, informed by the prophetic and apostolic legacy of righteous dissent, and energized by imaginative, communal action, this posture equips the church to bear witness to God’s coming kingdom of justice and peace. May we, like the midwives of old, the prophets and the apostles, dare to obey the higher call of God’s justice—even when it sets us against the world’s authorities—and do so with hearts anchored in hope and joy.
Way of the White Stone 