Spring 2026 · Vol. 55 No. 1 · pp. 45–58
Peacemaking and Police/Army Service: Can a Christian Do Both?
I was given five thousand words to answer this question, but I can do it in one. The answer is, “Yes.” How do I know? Because millions of people do both, and I know some of them. But the real issue, of course, is not whether Christians can do both, but whether they should. Would a person be a more faithful Christian, would one’s life line up better with the ethics of Jesus, if one chose against participation in the police or the military forces?
If we assume that something is automatically right, simply because it is in our national interest, or because it defends a constitution, or because a commanding officer tells us to do it, then we will have turned our backs on the lordship of Jesus and the kingship of God.
Christians answer that question diversely. Theologians and Bible interpreters answer it diversely. Confessions of Faith answer it diversely. In this article I will not be providing detailed arguments for either side of this debate. Rather I will focus on the question, “What is it that leads people to reach opposite conclusions on these challenging issues?” p. 46
Let’s let Jesus have the first word and then explore what people have thought Jesus meant.
Peacemakers, aka Pacifists
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” (Matt 5:9 NIV passim)
What were Jesus’ original words? Unfortunately, no one preserved the Hebrew or Aramaic original, but it undoubtedly used the word shalom. “Blessed are those who make shalom.” Matthew’s Greek version says, makarioi hoi eirēnopoioi, hoti autoi huioi theou klēthēsontai. The keyword is eirēnopoioi (literally, peacemakers). 1 For two thirds of church history, most Christians read or heard Scripture in Latin, where the wording is, Beati pacifici quoniam filii Dei vocabuntur. The keyword is pacifici (literally, peacemakers). And that is the origin of the word pacifist. In 1901, a Frenchman, Émile Artaud, created a brand-new French word, pacifisme, and, based on that, in the same year a brand-new English word pacifism entered a Scottish dictionary, and a year later the English Oxford dictionary. So, “Blessed are the pacifists.”
It took nineteen hundred years, but finally the church had an English word tailor-made to capture the richness and depth of what Jesus, the ultimate peacemaker, meant when he called those who produce shalom “God’s children.” And then it took almost no time for that wonderful new word to lose its original meaning and become a label for what people do not do.
The English word pacifism has suffered the fate of a double misunderstanding and thus a shift in meaning. The Greek and Latin words are about doing, making, producing. Jesus called people to active peace-building. But soon pacifism became a label for people who make lists of things they do not do, like resort to violence, participate in war, or choose careers that might involve the use of lethal violence.
What caused the shift? The main cause was a misunderstanding of another verse in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: “Do not resist an evil person” (Matt 5:39). The Anabaptist principle of “nonresistance” was based primarily on this verse, and it is indeed about what we do not do. But it is followed by three verses explaining what we do instead.
“Do not resist” was all too frequently understood to mean, “Do not do anything at all.” Whatever evildoers come up with, well, just let them do it. But Jesus is not saying, “Do nothing in response.” He is saying, “Do not use violent resistance.” 2 A true pacifist is characterized, not by what p. 47 they do not do, but by what they do. Indeed, by what they make, what they produce. True pacifists actively work toward peace, carefully discerning which peacemaking strategies are consistent with the model and teaching of Jesus. Unfortunately, the beautiful new word pacifism no longer captures this. It is now mostly used to label what followers of Jesus do not do.
And that resulted in the second misunderstanding. It is an unfortunate accident of the English language that the word pacifism sounds so very much like “passive-ism,” thus, passivism. I have had students who were actually surprised to discover that these are two different words, spelled differently, with two different meanings, well maybe with two different meanings. Maybe not. Maybe that beautiful peacemaking word really has been so misunderstood that those who claim to be pacifists actually do become passivists. And so an unfortunate accident of language inadvertently turns out to describe rather accurately what some pacifists (though not true peacemakers) have become.
Having meandered through a few languages, I hope I have cleared some space to introduce the real questions at stake here.
The Big Questions
What did Jesus mean when he called his followers to be peacemakers? What are the God-ordained means by which followers of Jesus actively work for peace? Do they ever include the use of “violence”? Violence is, of course, a slippery term, but we can hardly avoid using it. Beyond doubt, war involves violence. Should Christians ever participate in it? Sometimes police work involves violence. Does that mean followers of Jesus should choose other careers instead?
Whatever convictions we hold about these things, we should bear witness to them with much humility. After all, every one of us is in a small minority. If you are convinced military and police careers are perfectly appropriate for followers of Jesus, you are in a minority among your Mennonite and/or Anabaptist siblings. And if you believe followers of Jesus must keep clear of military or police careers, you are in a minority among Christians of most other denominations around the globe. Being in a majority or a minority does not automatically make us right or wrong. But it requires us to be humble about our convictions and open to learning from the majority, that is, from our sisters and brothers with whom we disagree.
During my doctoral studies in Aberdeen, Scotland, my professor, Dr. Howard Marshall, was preparing to deliver a paper at Cambridge University on the topic, “Christians and the Just War Theory.” He recruited his doctoral students to be his helpers, thinking through what he might p. 48 present. Each Thursday we met over lunch to debate different aspects of this controversial topic. One week we discussed “Violence in the Old Testament”; another, “Romans 13 and the Legitimate Use of the Sword”; another, “Jesus’ Teaching about Loving Enemies”; another, “The Two Swords Texts in Luke”—and so on for about thirteen weeks. When it was all over, I do not think any of us had actually changed our minds, and I am pretty sure none of us changed Dr. Marshall’s mind. For that matter, I would be surprised if his presentation in Cambridge changed very many people’s minds.
Why? Because most people do not reach their conclusions by evaluating arguments. And when I say “most people,” I include a bunch of very heady, supposedly intellectual, doctoral students, all trying to appear very neutral in front of their esteemed Doktorvater. We are not neutral. We enter these conversations with convictions, and we usually leave them without changing those convictions. We actually reach most of our convictions on the basis of other factors, and then we use arguments to support what we already believe. 3
During our Thursday lunch conversations, we never explored how each of us had come to believe what we in fact believed about Christians and violence, about Christians and just war, about Christians and active military or police participation. We all have a history and a tradition. Powerful forces shaped us, long before we evaluated logical arguments about these topics. I have rarely seen people change their mind on this topic when confronted with logical arguments, and almost as seldom when they were offered careful biblical teaching. Most of us have our convictions shaped first, and then we find arguments (and Bible texts) that support them.
My Heritage: Nonviolence
That was certainly true for me. I grew up in a household, in a village, in a church community, and in a denomination that all pointed in exactly the same direction on these questions. The Sunday school lessons we learned, the songs we sang, and the sermons we heard all pointed in the same direction.
As kids we were clearly taught that faithful followers of Jesus do not promote or endorse violence and do not choose careers where violence might be a job requirement. We do not fight against flesh and blood (Eph 6:12). That does not mean that we never got into fights on the playground. But we all knew, with every fiber of our being, that violence was wrong. p. 49
Even more powerful than Sunday school lessons and songs was the influence of storytelling. We knew our history. We knew that our spiritual ancestors paid a steep price for holding these very convictions. They were hunted down like animals and often burned at the stake or drowned in the Limmat River in Zurich, Switzerland. When persecuted, they did not fight back. They were driven from country to country. They moved across the globe, often precisely because they were convinced that military participation was out of the question for followers of Jesus.
Our collective story was the story of a faithful people, fully committed to nonviolence, to nonparticipation in this world’s ways of (at best) keeping the peace, and (at worst) preserving the status quo of the privileged. I know many who have the same shared history. For us, to reach any other conclusions on these questions would be to deny our entire faith heritage.
For me to change convictions and start to believe that all my ancestors were wrong about what the Bible teaches and what Jesus calls us to would be almost unthinkable. My great-grandfather was shot at point-blank range because he refused to join the military of his country. And you expect me to wake up one day and say, “Well if only he had been a better Bible interpreter, he would have signed up and joined the army”? I cannot even imagine that.
Our Convictions and Their Support
My main point is that our convictions are often formed and solidified long before we ever look at the issues carefully, study Bible texts alongside people who interpret the Bible differently, and dialog with those whose family story is totally different than ours.
Long after my own personal convictions were shaped, they were also challenged by books I’ve read, conferences I’ve attended, and, even more importantly, by people I have come to know. Among the most God-fearing, Jesus-loving, Spirit-following seminary students I have had the privilege of teaching are veterans of the US military and police officers. How can that be?
Well, they, too, had great-grandfathers. They also have a heritage and life experiences and countless relatives and friends who made other choices in good conscience because they were convinced differently. In fact, I have met many such people, people whose parents and grandparents, or their uncles and cousins, or their sons and daughters, or they themselves, sacrificed greatly while serving in the armed forces. These are people who are absolutely convinced that they are serving the Lord by serving their country, not because they have the relationship between God p. 50 and country all mixed up, but because they firmly believe that God cares about peace and safety, and that God sometimes works through police and military forces to make sure that evil people do not get the upper hand.
To confront such people with nice-sounding evidence that every one of their relatives should have reached a different conclusion and left the whole matter of national security to unbelievers—well that would make about as much sense to them as it does when someone tells me, “Your great-grandfather should have just signed up and served in the Russian army.”
We are shaped by our traditions and our experiences. We owe each other honor and respect for living according to our convictions, whether we’ve arrived at them primarily through Bible studies and careful reflection, or through a lifetime of being shaped by godly people. We do not have to agree with each other, but if we do not honor and respect each other as brothers and sisters in Christ, even when we reach different conclusions and make different choices, we do not have much of a basis for a healthy conversation about these things.
Factors that Shape Our Beliefs
A variety of factors combine to shape our convictions. The first of these has already been addressed above.
1. We are shaped by the traditions we value, the stories we’ve been told, and the environment in which we live.
2. We are shaped by our ecclesiology, our understanding of the nature and the mission of the church. When Howard Marshall and his doctoral students met for our Thursday lunches, we explored the topic of violence and nonviolence, just war and pacifism, from many angles. But when it was all over, it occurred to me that there were actually two questions we had not really explored. One I already mentioned: We never talked about what led us to the convictions we held.
But we also did not seriously address this one: What exactly is the role of the church itself? Does it include national peacekeeping? If we see the church primarily as an “alternative society,” a “counter-cultural reality” living by a different ethic than well-meaning non-Christians, it makes sense to discern which careers—as necessary as they may be for the functioning of the world at large—are not appropriate for those who form Christ’s alternative community of peacemakers (1 Pet 2:9-25). The p. 51 church is counter-cultural, but those who over-emphasize this tend also to be disengaged.
If we see the church primarily as the “salt” that permeates this fallen world, keeping it from total decay or as the “light” that shines in the very darkest of places (Matt 5:13-16), it makes a lot more sense to accept and even encourage the church’s members to get involved in those very challenging places where evil is confronted and held in check, even when that sometimes includes violent force. The church must engage with culture, but too much active engagement can lead to compromise with the ways of the world.
3. We are shaped by our understanding of God’s kingdom. What do we believe about the already present, but not yet fully present, kingdom of God? God’s kingdom is not yet fully present—that is, God’s will is not always done on earth as in heaven. That makes it seem obvious to many, that the world needs institutions authorized to use force, even lethal force, to keep evil in check. In the world, protective violence seems necessary to prevent or stop even greater violence. Both military and police forces can be terribly abusive, but do we really believe the world should try to do without them?
However, because God’s kingdom is already inaugurated and followers of Jesus participate in that kingdom and aim to live out its ethical demands, there will surely be some roles that someone needs to play, but not the followers of Jesus. Police and military careers come easily to mind, but perhaps there are many other careers Jesus’ followers should avoid if they involve too much compromise with sub-Christian aspects of the world’s political, economic, and entertainment systems.
The kingdom is both already and not yet. How far do we lean in one direction, and how far in the other? If we say, “The kingdom is here already,” and live that reality only, we will aim to live in full accordance with the ethics of God’s kingdom, overcoming evil only by doing good, praying for and blessing enemies, responding to persecution and violence with self-sacrificial love—always and everywhere (Rom 12:14-21).
If we say, “The kingdom is not yet,” and live as though God’s kingdom is a future reality only, the temptation is great to live as though the ethics of God’s kingdom do not yet apply. Many Christians claim that, when God’s kingdom arrives, we will all be living nonviolently, but until then, we might well join God’s work in this fallen world by joining the world’s peace-keeping forces, wielding the sword to counter and prevent greater evil (Rom 13:1-7). p. 52
God’s kingdom is, however, both here and not here, present but not fully present and yet still future. So, which lines will we draw? Which violence-using, peacemaking roles do we leave to those who do not have the special mandate of Jesus to take up the cross, follow in his footsteps, and choose self-sacrifice over the power of the sword? And where do we participate in God’s ordained means of holding evil in check in this still-fallen world? Again, the answers are not easy, but acknowledging how each of us understands the “already/not yet kingdom of God” might help us converse with integrity about these things.
4. We are shaped by our understanding of the “lordship of Jesus.” In the first few centuries of the Christian church, followers of Jesus did not join the Roman military. But what were the reasons for this? Did they refuse military participation because they were certain Jesus had called them to lay aside the world’s weapons and defenselessly follow the Prince of Peace? Some have so argued, and we know some early Christian martyrs made that case. 4
But another factor also played a significant role. You could not be in the Roman military without confessing Caesar as Lord. Caesar was considered a deity to be worshiped. If one served in Caesar’s army, one also offered sacrifices to the emperor. Christians could not pledge their allegiance to Caesar; they could not burn incense in his honor. For Christians, Jesus (not Caesar) is Lord (Rom 10:9; 1 Cor 10:3). That precluded military participation by definition.
It is not clear that it still does. We still confess, “Jesus is Lord,” but that does not mean we have no other allegiances. We have many. We have an allegiance to our families, to our churches, to employers, to our preferred political parties, to our favorite sports teams. We have many allegiances, but all other allegiances must be subordinate to one overriding allegiance: Jesus is Lord.
Today many Christians argue that one can join a police force in a Western democracy under the lordship of Jesus. Today they can join the military under the lordship of Jesus. But this also deserves some careful reflection. The confession, “Jesus is Lord,” is a declaration of ultimate allegiance. It means that no earthly commanding officer is to be obeyed unconditionally. It means that, in the end, we do what we do, not because human authorities demand it, but because the lordship of Jesus does.
If you are the person to whom the responsibility falls (or fell), to push the button that released the missile designed to blow up a munitions depot in Afghanistan, knowing full well it might claim innocent lives in p. 53 “collateral damage,” then you had better push that button if and only if you are convinced that this is an implication of your confession that Jesus is Lord, or it is not a Christian conviction. If you do it merely because you are a patriotic Canadian or American, then that is all it means. It does not mean you are acting Christian. God help us if we do not know the difference between those two things.
A story from the Gulf War. I remember hearing an interview with the first woman to reach a level of active engagement in American military operations, where it was her call to push a button releasing a missile aimed at Bagdad. This was during the first Gulf War in January 1991.
The interviewer tried in vain to make it a story about gender and the glass ceiling for women in the military. Desperate to make the interview memorable, the interviewer asked one final question: “When your day’s duty is done, when you’ve sent a half dozen missiles toward Bagdad, and then lie in bed and think about your role in the war, do you ever wonder what happens at the other end of those missiles, who has been widowed or orphaned because of them?”
The woman responded without hesitation and no doubt made her commanding officer proud. She simply said, “Nope. It is not up to me to think about whether it is right or wrong. Somebody else pays attention to that. I just do my job.”
I have no idea whether she claimed to be a Christian. If she was a Christian, I have no idea whether her basic convictions were learned from her pastor or her military trainer. But one thing became very clear to me that day. She had just articulated the very essence of a truly “non-Christian” response. She had declared her willingness to blindly follow the instructions, however right or wrong, of a human commanding officer.
A Christian approach is always to submit the demands of human authorities to the overriding authority of Jesus. If human commands are consistent with Jesus’ lordship, we obey human authorities “for Jesus’ sake.” If they are not, we disobey human authorities “for Jesus’ sake.” We never, ever say, “Somebody else worries about whether this is right or wrong; I just do my job.” Not as a Christian. Not ever. Not in the military. Not anywhere.
I recently retired from my role as a seminary professor. In all the years I served Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary and Fresno Pacific University, my ultimate responsibility was never to do whatever my academic dean required of me, nor what the president of the university required of me. It was always to do what Jesus required of me. And if a p. 54 soldier is commanded to do something he or she cannot reconcile with the lordship of Jesus, they must refuse, even if that means being court martialed, dishonorably discharged, or jailed. My great-grandfather was murdered in cold blood for refusing to obey the immoral command of a military officer. For him, Jesus was Lord and nobody else.
I am not saying we always need to explain this to everyone. Never once did I write a letter to my dean or my university president explaining that I will follow their instructions only if they are consistent with the lordship of Jesus. But the principle needs to be clear.
Christians with professions that might require them to “shoot to kill” had better be clear about this: no other authority ever supersedes the lordship of Jesus. If any lesser authority requires violent action—authorities like a legal requirement, or a national constitution, or for that matter patriotism, or self-interest, or even one’s own sense of justice—that is not good enough. For Christians, violent actions are justified by the lordship of Jesus, or they are not justified at all.
An example from jury duty. The rubber hit the road for me on this issue a few years ago when I was summoned for jury duty. It was a complicated case, so jury selection stretched over days. Dozens of people were sent home because they had knowledge of, or experiences with, or prejudices about the subject of the case. As the judge asked probing questions, one after the other was excused from duty. After two days of screening, I was thirtieth in line for possible jury duty and never suspected that before it was all over, I would be sitting in jury seat number two.
Among dozens of questions posed to prospective jurors one seemed purely routine and never resulted in anyone’s disqualification. The judge asked each prospective juror, “Will you obey all of my instructions, even if you disagree with them?” Everybody routinely responded with self-evident agreement, until he asked me that question. I chose not to offer the judge a promise of unconditional obedience. The judge seemed stunned, but then politely asked me to explain myself. I did, with an answer that went something like this:
Your honor, I have high respect for the judiciary and the role of the judge. I also have high respect for you as a person. But you have asked me to agree in advance that I will do whatever you ask me to do, no matter what that is. I cannot promise you that. I cannot promise that to any judge, or to any employer, or to any president, or to any emperor. I do not anticipate that you will ask me to do anything that I cannot do, but to promise you in advance that if you would, I would do it anyway, is to ask me for a promise I cannot give. p. 55
I could have said more, but it was not the time or place. The next morning, I found myself duly sworn in as a member of that jury. I could serve with a good conscience knowing I had preserved clarity on my convictions about the main thing: Jesus is Lord.
Drawing lines. So which careers and which activities are out of bounds for those who confess Jesus as Lord? There are many places one could draw a line. Some say, “I can endorse Christians in the role of armed police officers, but not in the military.” Others say, “Military participation in peacekeeping roles or in chaplaincy seems right for followers of Jesus, but not in active combat.” Others draw their line much farther from the place of action. They do not invest in businesses with ties to the military; they avoid symbols of militarism, or even patriotism. Others draw their line much closer to the place of action, supporting many kinds of military action, or even “pushing the button.”
The most fundamental issue that ultimately divides followers of Jesus from everyone else on this issue is not exactly where we draw that line, but whether or not “Jesus is Lord.” If Jesus is the center of our faith, we will carefully consider where lines need to be drawn, even when we do not all reach the same conclusions about that. What Jesus requires of me will often overlap with, but must never be confused with, what my citizenship in this country requires, or what my employment in this business requires, or even what my membership in this church requires.
And just to be clear, I am not saying, “Just go with your conscience, and do whatever seems right.” Conscience is not a reliable guide. 5 Subjective feelings of guilt or freedom can be thoroughly deceiving. I am saying rather, “Go with your convictions—but be careful that those convictions are carefully shaped and influenced by the factors I have already named, and by the fifth one yet to come.” That, I submit, is a very different basis for ethical decision-making than “conscience” alone.
Jesus’ lordship is always the overriding consideration. And that is why we so desperately need each other to help sort out these things. None of us could possibly have enough wisdom and clarity and courage to sort out these issues alone. We need church communities committed to Jesus’ lordship, committed to the Prince of Peace, committed to active peacemaking, to help us figure out which actions are consistent with that, and which are not. 6
And for those who respond, “Tim, you do not understand how the military works. You simply cannot reserve the right to disobey your commanding officer.” To them I respond, “I understand exactly how the military chain-of-command works. That’s been a huge factor in helping p. 56 me decide where I will draw my line.” We do not all draw our lines in the same places. I understand that. But please, do not ever say, “What line? It is not up to me to think about whether this is right or wrong; somebody else pays attention to that; I just do my job.”
The basis of fellowship. I have close friends who are armed police officers. I have good friends who have served in active military duty and would again. They are my brothers and sisters. We share a commitment to the lordship of Jesus. We may be drawing our lines in different places. Indeed, our faith communities may be helping us draw lines in different places. But we agree that Jesus is Lord. We passionately desire for Jesus to show us where appropriate lines should be drawn. That is what we hold in common.
If we collapse the lordship of Jesus into patriotism or national interest or self-defense or even the direct command of someone in authority over us, then we need to go back to square one and ask, “Who is Lord?” Jesus is Lord. I cannot enjoy Christian fellowship with fellow so-called “pacifists” for whom that does not matter. I can and do enjoy Christian fellowship with many so-called “non-pacifists” for whom the lordship of Jesus matters more than anything else in the world.
5. We are shaped by our understanding and application of the Bible. This is a huge, multi-faceted, but incredibly important, topic. If it had been my goal here to try to persuade my readers which conclusions they should reach concerning participation in police work or the military, I would certainly have invested far more space for this point.
Jesus is the center of our faith, but the Bible is our only reliable, authoritative, and God-ordained source of information on who Jesus was, what he did, and what he taught. I have proposed that our minds on these topics are often made up long before we do careful study of Scripture. But that does not mean Bible study is of secondary importance. Absolutely not. In fact, it means the opposite. All our convictions, however they are gained, whatever experiences have inclined us to see things this way or that, must be tested against what the Bible teaches.
Many factors outside the Scriptures profoundly and powerfully shape us, but Scripture is also a significant part of the shaping process. And if it is not, it ought to be. We are shaped by our own personal study, by the sermons we hear, the books and podcasts we encounter, and any other place where the Bible is interpreted, or misinterpreted. As we continue to study these important issues, let us be intentional about hearing and p. 57 interpreting Scripture, so that it can shape, and perhaps even change, our convictions.
The challenges are huge. Bible interpreters make widely diverse claims about what Scripture supposedly teaches. Indeed, there are even widely diverse ways in which they go about the tasks of interpreting and applying Scripture.
We claim Scripture as our authority, yet we disagree all over the place. What do we believe about the relationship between the Old Testament and the New? Between God’s mandate for Israel and God’s mandate for the church? Between law codes in either Testament and the teaching and model of Jesus? What do we believe Romans 13:1-7 means when it mandates the use of the sword? For whom? What do the “two swords” texts in Luke mean (Luke 22:35-38, 47-53)? Do we or do not we see progression in the Old Testament, moving inexorably toward the prophetic hope that swords will be beaten into plowshares? What did Jesus mean when he said, “Love your enemies” (Matt 5:44)? What does it even mean to say that “Jesus is the center of our faith?”
Depending on our answers to these questions, and dozens more, we reach our different conclusions about military and police participation. Or maybe it is too often the other way around: Depending on our convictions about military and police participation, we reach different conclusions on most of these questions.
Conclusion
So, will we ever all agree? Probably not. But while we work at the goal of gaining mutual understanding and insight, we also need to figure out how we will get along when we disagree.
There is a moving scene near the end of C. S. Lewis’s book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (a book in the Chronicles of Narnia series). Reepicheep, a brave, sword-wielding, warrior mouse, decides to leave the Dawn Treader and stay in Aslan’s country, never again returning to Narnia. As he says his final goodbyes, he throws his sword into the ocean and announces, “I shall need it no more.”
Jesus chose against the sword already during his ministry. Many of us are longing for the day when we can do the same. But many of us are convinced that we can and should do that already. That is the side I am on. Many disagree, but we are brothers and sisters learning together what it means to be peacemakers in a violent world under the lordship of Jesus who will one day make all things new. Amen. p. 58
Notes
- Here, as in many other places in the New Testament, the Greek word for peace intends to capture the broader, fuller meaning of the underlying Hebrew word, shalom, a word that includes full-orbed well-being and harmony in relationships.
- The Greek word is antistēnai. In this context what is being forbidden is not “standing against” something (the literal meaning of the word), but doing so with violent means. That is made clear by the context. Jesus is calling for active responses, just not the kind that model themselves after the perpetrators of evil. Jesus is calling for creative, effective, but nonviolent ways of responding to evildoers. The following three sentences make this very clear, as Jesus provides three scenarios where his followers respond to evildoers with creative, nonviolent, but very much active resistance.
- This viewpoint is well-documented in the book by Mónica Guzmán, I Never Thought of It That Way: How to Have Fearlessly Curious Conversations in Dangerously Divided Times (Dallas, TX: BenBella, 2022).
- Ronald J. Sider, The Early Church on Killing (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012).
- It is often said that the conscience is “the voice of God” speaking to our hearts or spirits. But conscience can be an unreliable guide. It may alert us to situations where we are violating our own personal convictions, but unless our convictions are trained by God’s Word, conscience cannot be relied upon to help us discern right and wrong. A helpful discussion of this is found here: https://www.gbcstockport.org.uk/manse/conscience.
- See Alfred Neufeld, What We Believe Together: Exploring the “Shared Convictions” of Anabaptist-Related Churches (New York: Good, 2015).
