Ch 5 The Uncommon Good of the Gospel

The LORD make his face to shine upon you…and bring the change to give you peace.

As we transition in our discussion from the bad news of the gospel to the good news, we have to be aware that the bad news could also be reported with misinformed, distorted or even fake news. For the transition to justice to be complete, such reporting must be recognized or any good news will lack the significance distinguishing Jesus’ gospel. The bad news exposes us to the fragmentary heart of the human condition in order to bring us the integral heart of human life. Anything less and any substitutes for how we think, see and act are unable to recognize the heart of the (our) human condition and thus are disabled to understand the integral gospel for all human life and its essential order.

It was common thinking for Nathaniel to be skeptical and ask, “can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (Jn 1:46). Nazareth was a small town with a common negative stereotype, which predisposed Nathaniel’s thinking to be incredulous about the good news reported by Philip (Jn 1:43-45)—biasing his perception of Jesus. In common terms, what Nathaniel thought was “good” was measured by reduced outer-in distinctions of what persons did and had; and his measurement of Jesus in this comparative process couldn’t indicate ‘good’ but implied he was ‘less’, perhaps even ‘bad’ on this comparative scale. Nathaniel’s predisposed mindset and biased lens were not surprising because they demonstrate the common thinking and perception of “good.” This thinking and perception emerged from the “good and evil” in the primordial garden and have evolved under the wrong assumption of “knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:5). This faulty assumption has adapted into the prevailing thinking and pervasive perception of the common good.

What has adapted into the common good revolves on two basic issues critical to understanding the common good: (1) the state of what is called ‘common’, and (2) the composition of what is considered ‘good’. Any use of the term ‘the common good’ makes assumptions about these basic issues, and its application appears positive under the further assumption of having the appropriate outcome for all persons and peoples on the earth. These assumptions are rarely challenged, if at all,[1] but they are consequential for Christians in their claim to the good news of the gospel and in their related work for the common good.

The inaugural human persons were constituted in creation justice under the authority of God’s rule of law for its human order in wholeness. But, when they “saw that the alternative was good” to fulfill their common needs, desires and concerns, they chose the alternative (formed by a pseudo-dialectic, discussed in chap. 4) to creation justice in wholeness; they made this choice subtly under the assumption that they would also “know good and evil like God” and thereby have the wisdom to act for their common good (Gen 3:5-6). These consequences followed:

1. What emerged from this alternative constructed the prevailing human condition constituting the human context, known as the common. Most important, the state of this common exists in reductionism, that is, in a state of reduced ontology and function in all its diversity and variations at all levels of human life—a state in subtle contrast, variable contradiction or conflict with creation justice.

2. What evolved from this alternative also transposed the composition of good to be compatible with the common, thereby redefining ‘good’ to be inclusive of reduced ontology and function in their variations and diversity making up the human context. In much postmodern thinking, this “good” would be desirable because it is more inclusive of the human context to represent the common good. This redefining of good involved both the common-ization of “good” and the renegotiation of “evil” (making it variable and relative), which signified the misleading promise made in the primordial garden about “knowing good and evil like God.” Consequently, this composition of good encompassed the human condition and thus fell into ambiguous distinction with evil—the “good and evil” of the alternative to creation justice.

These consequences have evolved subtly into the prevailing notion of the common good; and when its assumptions are not challenged, the common good adapts even more subtly to pervade Christian theology and practice with its common-ized and relativized shaping. As an extension from the primordial garden, this existing condition among us has fallen into the virtual realm composing the common good, having only assumptions to cling to.

Therefore, the reality facing us in applying the common good to human life is unavoidable:

The common good is not always good according to God’s eyes, whose lens distinguishes the reality of creation from the virtual and augmented realities of human shaping; nor does the common good routinely serve all human life in the inherent human need of all persons and peoples—at best serving only their permissible rights, which is insufficient to fulfill the inherent human need that requires vested and privileged rights.

This reality is the genius of reductionism, which generates illusions about “good and evil” and promotes misinformation, distorted facts and fake news about the utility of the common good. The purpose of reductionism is to counter wholeness—the wholeness of God and the wholeness of human persons created in likeness. The counter-workings of reductionism generate ontological simulations and epistemological illusions of human identity and function, which have become the default condition that subtly pervades our theology and practice. And reductionism’s most ingenious counteraction is the alternative of the common good, and seducing us with its appealing results (or hope).

Accordingly, when Christians hear the human-life buzzword ‘the common good’—even if only in their own thoughts and words—they must neither automatically affirm that it’s good, nor simply accept that it’s beneficial for humanity or even benefits just the majority of the human population. One example of the subtle influence of reductionism in the common good involves benefiting the majority of the human population. Sounds good so it seems unreasonable to discount it. But, on what basis can we say that this is good without assuming that the majority isn’t wrong, unjust or bad—which human history disproves? For the enforcement of God’s rule of law, God clearly instructed a different perspective: “You shall not side with the majority so as to pervert justice” (Ex 23:2). Many who advocate for the common good also emphasize giving the poor special attention or treatment. Yet, for the whole justice of God’s rule of law, “nor shall you be partial to the poor” (Ex 23:3, cf. Dt 1:17). With their apparent thinking about the common good, Jesus’ first disciples had yet to learn in their advanced discipleship the priority to be given to the poor, in contrast to what Jesus makes primary for all persons and relationships in his gospel (Mt 26:6-13). These examples evidence the influence of reductionism by common-izing how we think, see and act.

Therefore, until the basic assumptions about the common good are clarified and corrected, we need to exercise the valid means of a ‘hermeneutic of suspicion’ on any reference to the common good. In other words, we need to be engaged ongoingly in the fight against reductionism or this critical battle will subject us to the common’s influence composed by reductionism—notably shaping ontological simulations and epistemological illusions. Whether in a reduced theological anthropology or having a weak view of sin without encompassing reductionism, the shaping influence of reductionism will subtly pervade our theology and practice and prevent our whole transition to justice.

As a former reductionist with fragmented theology and practice, Paul knew how irreplaceable the fight against reductionism is for the integral fight for the good of the whole gospel. When he countered reductionism in the church and the fragmentary theology and practice preventing wholeness of persons and relationships in the church, Paul qualified Christian freedom: “All good things are permissible rights, but not all “good” things are beneficial…not all “good” things build up the whole. Do not seek your own good but the good of the other” (1 Cor 10:23-24). Paul, however, didn’t affirm the common good, instead he countered the assumption that it would build up the whole. By correcting the misguided assumptions extended from the primordial garden, Paul further clarified the issue for our theology in order for our practice to be right, or best and not simply common-ly good: “I want you to be wise in what is truly good and clearly distinguished from what is unambiguously evil. In this fight the God of peace will crush Satan, the author of reductionism, under your whole-ly feet” (Rom 16:19-20).

In his defining fight against reductionism, Jesus wielded the sword of uncommon peace to unmistakably distinguish that he did not “come to bring peace to the earth for the common good” (Mt 10:34-36). His purpose is to break apart the simulation in existing bonds in relationships, to cause conflict in the conventional unions of human life, and thereby to tear down common illusions to expose the underlying reality of reduced persons and relationships without just-nection in the fragmentary human relational condition (Lk 12:49-53). Without the common thinking of civility and a fashionable notion of being irenic for the sake of the common good, Jesus strongly declared the bad news of the gospel. This is the uncomfortable part of his gospel that commonly gets revised by misinformed, distorted or fake news in order to reflect, reinforce and sustain the virtual and augmented reality of common peace (as in Jn 14:27). Jesus’ intense fight against reductionism—for example, enacted intensely against the reduction of persons and relationships in God’s house (Mk 11:15-17; Jn 2:14-17)—expressed the depth of his whole person from inner out, and thus caused him to weep over what others assumed to be of the common good—weeping because their common peace lacked wholeness for all human life and its essential order of all persons and relationships (Lk 19:41-42). And as Jesus made unequivocal, his uncommon peace remains indistinguishable for them from common peace because it is “hidden from your lens assumed under the common good.”

By relentlessly declaring the bad news of the gospel in his fight against reductionism, Jesus exposed, clarified and corrected the assumptions of the common good. His declarations extended further and unfolded deeper integrally with the good news proclaiming the uncommon good distinguished by only Jesus’ gospel. Yet, the uncommon good will be hidden from our lens also as long as we lack clarity about the common good and its common peace. This clarity will elude how we think, see and act (1) if we dismiss the uncommon good as a mere ideal without real significance, or (2) if we simply ignore its reality because the uncommon good involves more vulnerable change than we are willing to undergo for the integral heart of human life and/or to undertake to make whole the fragmentary heart of the human condition (including our condition).

Change is usually implied in any conversation for the common good; and change is always an explicit or implicit goal for those calling for justice and working for peace. Change, however, in the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel is neither optional or temporary for human life, nor merely remedial for everyday life. The significance of change cannot be just a moment in time or involve just a movement of action. In Jesus’ gospel, significant change is the transformation of life (and lives), which is constituted by the redemptive change of both the old (i.e. the reduced, fragmented, bad, wrong, unfair, unjust) being terminated and the new (i.e. the whole, good, right, fair, just) raised up for the experiential truth and reality of the heart of human life and its essential order for all persons and relationships. Anything less and any substitutes for redemptive change reduce such change to conventional change. At best, the significance of conventional change is (1) temporary for the human condition because it doesn’t get to its fragmentary heart, and (2) fleeting for everyday life because it doesn’t involve the qualitative-relational heart of human life.

The uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel offers, involves and requires redemptive change of reduced ontology and function in all its variations and forms in everyday life and at all levels of human life (including institutional, systemic and structural). This redemptive change encompasses the ontological simulations and epistemological illusions that compose our default mode. When his disciples’ everyday practice made evident their reduced ontology and function centered on human distinctions from outer in (“the greatest,” Lk 9:46; 22:24), he told them the whole truth: “Unless you change from inner out like vulnerable children, you will never belong to my kingdom family” (Mt 18:3). His truth, however, was not about conventional change merely from the outer in; outer-in change is the metaschematizō that even Satan promotes (2 Cor 11:14-15). The truth of his gospel is the “turn-around change” (strepho) signifying the redemptive change of transformation from inner out (metamorphoo). Metamorphoo is the relational outcome constituting the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel, which Paul, on the one hand, made conclusive (2 Cor 3:18; 5:17) and, on the other hand, made imperative as the ongoing change necessary in order to be distinguished from the common (Rom 12:2). And as Peter would testify about the good news, the uncommon good offers, involves and requires nothing less than redemptive change of reduced ontology and function, the condition he persisted in; and that no substitutes such as conventional change are sufficient or acceptable for redemptive change, such as Peter attempted until his transformation.

The need for change is basic to the human condition since the primordial garden. We all, then, need change, whether we seek, want or even recognize it; this need is innate to our human condition. More complex is the type of change required to meet this need. Since the beginning, however, the means for change utilized in the human context for changing the human condition have complicated both what is significant change and what brings significant change (e.g. the misguided tower of Babel, Gen 11:1-4). The gospel’s uncommon good clarifies and corrects what is needed for the human condition.

First, the terms are clarified to avoid confusion or conflation of terms. Conventional change is common change, and redemptive change is uncommon change. That which is common is distinct to the human context, human life and its persons. Uncommon (or holy) distinguishes God and God’s relational context and process unique to God. The common and the uncommon are mutually exclusive and thus should not be confused with each other. Moreover, the common and the uncommon are incompatible and therefore must not be conflated. Since conventional change is common change, the extent of this change does not and cannot exceed the common. While our desire for or pursuit of change may not go beyond the extent of conventional change, our hopes for change often exceed common change. Likewise, those working for justice and peace tend to pursue the limits of conventional change, while their hopes and expectations usually exceed common change—notably true for Christians. It is problematic for those needing, wanting or working for change either to not understand or to ignore the extent of that change; and it is disappointing, frustrating, angering or depressing when their hopes and expectations for change are not fulfilled. But, this process reflects how conventional change gets confused with redemptive change, and, more importantly, how uncommon change is conflated with common change to mislead those needing and wanting change as well as to misguide those seeking and working for change.

Jesus clarifies for us: The change we use will be the extent of change we get. When his clarification is listened to, then his correction can be received.

Conventional change may serve and does indeed work for the common good. The common good, however, cannot be confused with the uncommon good and must not be conflated with what Jesus’ gospel distinguishes only as the uncommon good. What he brings (as in Mt 10:34) and what he gives (as in Jn 14:27) are only uncommon and thus exclusive to the whole of God and God’s relational context and process. The unique nature of what Jesus brings is irreducible in the human context and by human life and its persons; and the uniqueness of what he gives is nonnegotiable to all human terms. In other words, the uncommon good is unmistakably distinguished from the common good and must never be confused or conflated with it. This critical clarification and correction were initiated by God in Babylonia, where God deconstructed the tower of Babel for the corrective purpose to expose the false hope of a common good and to dispel the illusion of its expected outcome from common change (Gen 11:5-9). God’s purpose wasn’t only to clarify and correct but also to prepare the way for the uncommon good to be received; and further integrated in God’s purpose, to enact the uncommon change necessary for this relational outcome to be whole and uncommon (whole-ly) as the experiential truth and reality in human life and its order for all persons and relationships.

The tower of Babel predates the hopeful change that has evolved in two prime examples of recent history. One example counters what Jesus brings and the other example contradicts what Jesus gives, both of which compete with uncommon change and its uncommon good. The first prime example has a conflict approach to change, which could be confused with the sword Jesus brought. This is the Marxist ideology and its dialectic (thesis-antithesis-synthesis), which communism has implemented under the assumption that it will result in the synthesis for the greater good of the people. On the one hand, a conflict approach to change is warranted because significant change requires the old to be terminated for the new to emerge—which is the unequivocal purpose of Jesus’ sword. On the other hand, a Marxist-Hegelian dialectic does not merit affirmation of the means used for its end to bring about a synthesis. Its common thinking, explicitly or implicitly, is that the end justifies the use of its means, even if the means are wrong or unjust.

The systemic use of power relations to enforce change formally breaks just-nection and officially legitimizes its injustice. This common thinking about “good and evil” relativizes what is right, and thereby promotes, reinforces and/or sustains the disabling of justice while enabling injustice. Therefore, the conflict approach to change of Marxist ideology (and all its variations) cannot be confused with the sword of uncommon change that Jesus brings:

The common’s conflict approach to change works variably to disable justice and to enable injustice, while the uncommon’s redemptive change serves invariably for the just-nection of all persons and relationships in wholeness; the former works under the assumption of serving the common good, while the latter serves only the reality of the uncommon good and thus works for the only good that distinguishes justice by Jesus’ gospel.

The verdict on the Marxist-Hegelian dialectic (cf. pseudo-dialectic discussed previously) has not been concluded because the jury on communist history is still in session. But, the synthesis for a new human order has had no indications of being nothing more than a false hope—not only in falling short of utopian expectations but with its dystopian consequences (cf. pseudo-dialectic discussed previously). Nevertheless, the anticipated victory for this hoped-for result has not stopped many from continuing to pursue this common change, likely in the absence of real hope for significant change. Variations of a conflict approach have adapted into many forms of protest (political, social, economic, religious, and the like) that have been aggressive (in both macro- and micro-aggression) and thus violent (even implicitly as Jesus defined in God’s rule of law, Mt 5:21-22). Even knowingly in their common thinking, their approach to change has adopted the principle of the end justifies the use of its means. These varying conflict approaches to change—which includes the adaptation of the Marxist dialectic in liberation theology—are still simply common change that should not be confused with the uncommon change Jesus brings.

At the same time, this is not to say that the approach to change should be nonviolent. What does need to be said, however, is that when viewed through the lens of uncommon terms, the approach of nonviolence is an oversimplified notion of change, as difficult as this approach is to embrace and enact. Such change is unable to deal with the existing depth of the old even though it may address and confront the old, thus it merely acts as common change working for the common good. Consider this sensitive example, which various persons could have misgivings accepting. Though Martin Luther King’s nonviolent approach to change eventually included the global injustice of the Vietnam War, it never encompassed the sexism within the Civil Rights Movement to change the gender inequality existing among themselves—notably those proclaiming and working for the common good. In other words, change became selective and likely protective for those who didn’t want to be vulnerable from inner out.

This makes evident the fact that Christians who advocate for nonviolent change distort what Jesus brings with his sword, either by common-ly idealizing it or by simply ignoring it. The consequence has been that the redemptive change needed, for example, to clean out God’s house has been absent, which has left the relational orphans populating churches without just-nection—leaving the church in the simulation of its practice and the illusion of its relationships together. This relational condition is not the uncommon good that Jesus’ gospel brings. The sword of Jesus signifies the intensity (not the violence) with which the battle against reductionism (the full scope of sin) must be fought. Thus, Jesus’ sword is the relational extension of God’s wrath in the OT. Contrary to common perception and thinking about God’s wrath, this intensity expressed the heart of God’s grief in relational response to the scope of sin as reductionism, which reduced persons and relationships from their wholeness created in the image and likeness of the Trinity. The heart of God’s grief first responded intensely to this reductionism with the flood, and only because of Noah’s wholeness (tamiym) was he saved from God’s intense battle against reductionism (Gen 6:1-9).

God’s wrath and Jesus’ sword express the heart of the Trinity’s grief (as in Lk 13:34; 19:41-42) in the relational response necessary to bring the uncommon change for transforming the human condition and its fragmentary relational order. Therefore, the unavoidable reality facing Christian leaders and activists is this: The old is not eliminated without conflict and this conflict does not terminate without Jesus’ sword of uncommon change for only the uncommon good. Accordingly, even nonviolent approaches to change should not be confused with the uncommon change required for the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel (not our variations of the gospel).

All the above approaches signify common change, which in one conventional way or another disable justice and enable injustice by reinforcing and sustaining the reduced ontology and function of the human condition. Moreover, any form of power relations at any level becomes an enabler of injustice and a disabler of justice (cf. Lk 22:24-26). Whether intentionally or inadvertently, these approaches counter what Jesus brings. The redemptive change brought by Jesus is the only good news to have integrally the whole and uncommon relational outcome for human ontology and function, and this whole-ly relational outcome is the uncommon good that Jesus gives.

Next, contradicting the uncommon good that Jesus gives is the second prime example in recent history: globalization, as it has evolved from colonialism and been adapted from the Enlightenment. Countering the uncommon good brought by Jesus and contradicting this reality that he gave are not mutually exclusive but interrelated in critical ways. They are both problematic in their underlying reductionism that promotes and generates results different from Jesus’ gospel. Yet, it is one issue for conflict approaches to counter what Jesus brings by using a misleading or misguided hope, and a deeper, more complicated issue to contradict the uncommon good he gives by using a false hope.

Analogous to the global effort by Babylonia to “build ourselves a global community” (Gen 11:4), political globalization evolved in human history to “make a name for ourselves.” The construction of this “name for ourselves” required (1) competing with the kingdom of God to rule the world, and (2) imposing its rule over others under the dominance of its sovereignty. This global process formed the dynamic of colonialism (or imperialism), which has been the prime political example that has disabled justice and enabled injustice—a dynamic generated often by the myth of the common good. As a subtle extension of the Roman Empire, Constantine (in the 4^th century) justified this dynamic with a false hope of building Christendom; and the U.S. has intensified the colonial dynamic by common thinking that amplifies the myth of Manifest Destiny and/or the false hope of democratic ideology—both illusions having justified the enabling of injustice that contradicts the uncommon good given by Jesus. Many Christians in the U.S. would either disagree with this assessment or feel very uncomfortable accepting it. But, then, they have to answer to the type of change they advocate and be accountable for its effects on their own lives, the church, this nation and the world. And the change they use and get from it have to be measured by the uncommon change for the uncommon good of the gospel that Jesus brings and gives.

From political globalization has evolved economic globalization. The modern development of the economy distinctly adapted from the Enlightenment (around the 18^th century), which promoted two movements for human progress:

1. The reliance on rationalized thinking to supposedly enlighten human perception and action, which, on the one hand, would challenge human development beyond tradition but, on the other hand, would compete with the uncommon change that Jesus brings by substituting a secular worldview (secularism) to contradict the uncommon good Jesus gives.

2. The emergence of modern science, which challenged traditional beliefs and the limits of their conclusions (e.g. the order of the universe) to both (a) justify secularism for human development and (b) prioritize the development of technology for human progress—the primacy of which has pervaded modern life and preoccupies (even dominates) persons over the primacy of relationships together.

By adapting in this evolutionary process, the economy underwent pivotal change with the Industrial Revolution (starting from the late 18^th century) and has since progressed (i.e. evolved) as energized by the natural (common) selection of the economy’s fittest components to survive. The economy’s survival of the fittest generates the economic colonialism necessary to empower the progress of the global economy, even over the objections of tribes and nations. Like political globalization, of course, this defining dynamic of economic globalization also contradicts the uncommon good that Jesus gives.[2]

Economic globalization, however, doesn’t survive by colonialism alone. The survival of its fittest has a much more subtle basis. Earlier, Jesus alerted his followers to what contradicts what he gives (the scope of Mt 6:19-32). What he defined is the mentality and lifestyle of consumers. Consumerism drives the common everyday life and practice that fuels economic growth; and the subtle the-more-the-better mentality and the explicit lifestyle of greed intensify consumer drive as mere objects manipulated and forged by economic promotion (as Paul alluded to, Eph 2:3). Economic globalization survives only by the consumption of its common goods, which it multiplies by creating the subtle need for convenience and efficiency. These human-shaped needs consume consumers—even at the expense of fulfilling their inherent human need basic to all persons—which economic globalization has now substituted as the prevailing source for the good life. Moreover, discordant clouds are forming over the expanding scenario of the global economy, which darkens its optimistic basis (1) on the misguided assumption that the earth’s natural resources can support unlimited economic growth, and (2) on the misleading assumption that all human labor benefits from capitalist development.

Therefore, Christians need to awaken to the consuming reality enveloping our everyday life. The priority given to consumption, plus the pursuit of convenience and the search for efficiency, all reinforce and sustain economic globalization, and thereby also enable the injustice of its colonial practices and disable the justice needed for the care of all creation. Since we are all consumers in one way or another, wanting convenience and desiring efficiency to some extent, the priority we give to these even if not excessive will determine whether or not we also contradict the uncommon good Jesus gives—as well as also counter the uncommon change he brings.

Given these two prime examples of hopeful change and related variations of them on the personal or collective level, we are always faced with the significance of the change we use. This change is especially important for the goal of those calling for justice and working for peace. Significant change, however, is neither just a moment in time nor involving just a movement of action. How we think, see and act regarding change have to be challenged ongoingly by the distinction between common-conventional change and uncommon-redemptive change. All the issues about change converge in the vital difference between metaschematizō (outer-in change) and metamorphoo (inner-out change, as distinguished by Paul); and this critical distinction between the outer in and inner out cannot be confused with each other or conflated together, because they signify the incompatibility of human identity and function in either reduced terms or whole terms. The former involves common change and nothing more, and the latter involves uncommon change and nothing less.

It should be evident in how we think, see and act that the type of change is crucial for the outcome desired, hoped for and expected. The self-evident reality is:

The change we use will be the extent of change and related outcome we get—which either at best serves only a common good variably defined, or at the least works for the uncommon good of all persons and relationships in wholeness.

Metamorphoo distinguishes the uncommon change necessary by its nature (not by duty or obligation) for the whole (not partial or fragmentary) relational outcome of the uncommon good that Jesus brings and gives (as in 2 Cor 3:18). Only inner-out change unequivocally distinguishes the uncommon from the common (as in Rom 12:2), and thereby constitutes the uncommon-redemptive change of the gospel (as in 2 Cor 5:16-17)—which common-conventional change is unable to bring and give, yet may try to simulate (as reductionism does, 2 Cor 11:13-15) or create illusions about (as Peter attempted, Gal 2:11-14).

The uncommon good of the gospel that Jesus brings and gives emerges by the redemptive change of the who, what and how persons are from inner out (their righteousness), and it unfolds with the wholeness of their righteousness in likeness of God’s. This relational outcome of wholeness is the primacy defining the full identity of those in God’s kingdom-family and that determines their primary relational involvement with the whole of who, what and how God is—as Jesus made conclusive in contrast and conflict with the common (Mt 6:33). Anything less and any substitutes of who, what and how persons are reflect, reinforce and sustain the reduced ontology and function that both counters what Jesus brings and contradicts what he gives. Those reductionists are in need of redemptive change in order to be involved in and belong to relationally the uncommon good of his gospel of uncommon peace—as Jesus clearly distinguished for the who, what and how his true followers are in wholeness (Mt 5:6,9,20).

In Jesus’ uncommon good, the significance of change is always relational, and redemptive change only transforms in the primacy of relationship. Thus, significant change always encompasses, involves and changes relationships, which unmistakably contrasts with common-conventional change. Any change that is not so engaged relationally falls short and, therefore, is insufficient to bring the significant change and give the significant outcome that transforms relationships in their primacy. Uncommon change is irreplaceable to bring the significant change necessary for justice and to give the significant outcome constituting peace. Anything less and any substitutes, even with good intentions, at best result in premature justice and immature peace.

Accordingly, and invariably, when we call for justice, we have to know what indeed brings justice; and when we work for peace, we have to understand what truly gives peace.

The uncommon change of the uncommon good emerged distinguished in relational terms when God responded face to face with his kingdom-family by the relational involvement of his definitive blessing (Num 6:22-27). “Subject God make his face to shine upon you…and give you peace” is the most common blessing in our tradition, whose use has lost its relational significance and has either ignored or not understood the essential significant change at the heart of Subject God’s relational response. By “give you” (siym), God is not acting as a mere benefactor, nor is it merely highlighting God’s good character to give. The deeper meaning of siym used in God’s response centers on the heart of what Subject God brings and gives: (1) to bring about a change, and integral to this change (2) to establish a new relationship. Thus, the Subject’s face-to-face response to subjects (not objects of his blessing) is to bring the significant change that establishes them in new relationships. The relational outcome is not a “new” normal but gives them the new order of relationships together in shalom—that is, their well-being in wholeness to constitute their just-nection as subjects in Subject God’s family.

Sadly, those associated with God’s kingdom-family turned God’s definitive blessing into a “new” normal by first transposing the uncommon change God brings to common change, and then by common-izing the uncommon peace God gives (cf. Isa 29:13). The pervasive consequence was to convert God’s uncommon good into a prevailing common good. This conversion continues today, subtly shaping how we see and think about the gospel to counter the uncommon change Jesus brings and to contradict the uncommon wholeness he gives. Jesus had to clarify and correct this conversion throughout his embodied presence in order to expose the common-ization of what he brings and gives (as discussed throughout this study).

Notably, of course, his main disciples were common-ized in their identity (seeking to be the greatest, Lk 22:24) and gave priority to serving the common good over the primacy of relationship together (Mt 26:8-11). Also, the majority associated with God’s family functioned in common peace to counter the siym of Subject God’s relational response, and thereby contradicted the shalom he gives (Lk 19:41-42). As evident in his post-ascension critique of churches (Rev 2-3), Jesus (together with the Spirit) continues to pursue us in any distorting conversion of the uncommon change he brings and the uncommon peace he gives. His relational purpose is always for the just-nection of all persons and relationships in the uncommon good. Furthermore, his ceaseless purpose in this vital process pursues us, so that any call for justice will not stop prematurely until just-nection is complete, and that all work for peace will not be engaged immaturely without wholeness and settle for common peace. Jesus knew all too well from his personal observations that common thinking, perception and action result in anything less than their maturity until they undergo uncommon change.

In the ordinary terms of the gospel, the sword of uncommon peace that Jesus brings and gives would seem to contradict peace and to function counter to it. That would only be true for our theology and valid in our practice when the focus is reduced to common peace. The truth of Jesus’ gospel, however, that invalidates other gospels using his name is this: Whenever common peace is used in place of uncommon peace, there is a contradiction of what Jesus gives; and whenever our work revolves around common peace, it functions counter to the uncommon peace that Jesus’ sword brings.

The uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel unfolds in his discipleship manifesto for all his followers (the Sermon on the Mount, Mt 5-7), emerging with their definitive identity formation (the Beatitudes, 5:3-10). Their identity as “peacemakers” is not merely a partial identity but their whole identity as the “children of God” (5:9). Yet, only those who are relationally involved with God with their whole persons from inner out relationally belong in God’s family (5:8), which emerges from only the uncommon-redemptive change of the who, what and how they are (5:3-6). Therefore, in Jesus’ uncommon good, the uncommon change of peacemakers involves only whole persons who work just for uncommon peace. These daughters and sons in God’s family know that anything less is an immature account of their whole identity, and that any substitutes are an immature peace of the whole who, what and how they are and function for. Immature peace and uncommon peace are at the critical disjuncture composed between “the wide gate and easy road” and “the narrow gate and difficult road” (7:13-14). This disjuncture continues to create both fog for his followers theology and ambiguity confounding their practice, such that they stop prematurely without just-nection in their call for justice and engage the work of peace immaturely without wholeness by settling for common peace. This describes the who, what and how of persons prevailing among those associated with God’s kingdom, whose reduced identity and function composed the religious status quo that Jesus required his true followers to go further and be deeper than, without stopping short (5:20).

Reductionism is always imposing its “knowing good and evil” on those functioning as objects shaped by the human context in reduced ontology. These are the sentinels (Eze 33:7-9) who all-too-easily claim premature justice and who all-too-widely profess immature peace—taking a wider trajectory and easier path than Jesus (cf. Eze 34). Yet, this bad news is redeemed and transformed by the good news: the uncommon good that Jesus brings with uncommon change and gives with uncommon peace. If we are willing to turn around from the assumptions in our theology and change the bias in our practice, then our just-nection can be completed to counter premature justice rather than countering what Jesus brings; and then our persons and relationships can be made whole to contradict immature peace instead of contradicting what Jesus gives. The common-good workings of reductionism always seeks to convert the uncommon good, so that premature justice will subtly pervade everyday life to enable injustice, and that immature peace will prevail over human life to disable justice and prevent just-nection.

Once again, the uncommon good Jesus brings and gives faces us with this persistent reality:

How we see and think about change will be the change we use, which will be the change we get…which will be the justice and peace we use, which will be the justice and peace we get—all of which will compose either the common good or the uncommon good…that we get as objects or experience as subjects, who serve as mere servants or work for as whole persons in the Trinity’s likeness.

The common good is composed by reduced ontology and function that lacks just-nection regardless of the amount of premature justice and immature peace generated. The uncommon good is constituted by whole ontology and function in the right relational order for the just-nection of all persons and peoples in whole justice and uncommon peace. Jesus’ gospel brings and gives nothing less and no substitutes.

To know what indeed brings justice and to understand what truly gives peace converge in the integrating dynamic of just-nection (discussed in chap. 4) that Jesus brings and gives. As the conclusive extension of the definitive blessing of Subject God’s face (2 Cor 4:6), Jesus’ gospel embodies the primacy of God to enact the primacy of face-to-face relationship for the persons primary to God. The right order of relationship together, which was created by the Subject only for subjects in his likeness, is the whole-ly relational outcome of just-nection. God’s justice is distinguished whole and God’s peace is experienced uncommon by the integration just in the relational dynamic of just-nection. Jesus redeems, reconciles and transforms the relational connection required for justice of the human order in the integrally created and newly created whole-ly likeness of God (summarized by Paul in 2 Cor 3:18; 5:16-17; Col 3:10-11). Therefore, just-nection is the unequivocal and irreplaceable antithesis that distinguishes justice from the common denominator of injustice (expanding previous discussion):

That which encompasses the common’s prevailing relational distance, separation or brokenness that fragment the human order and reduce persons to any and all relational disconnection contrary to their created likeness to God; this is consequential for relegating persons to relational orphans, the relational condition that disables them to function in their vested and privileged rights, and thereby prevents fulfillment of their inherent human need, whereby their everyday function subtly enables injustice—reinforcing and sustaining injustice even as they exercise their permissible rights.

The obscured reality, verified by existing facts, is this: Without just-nection persons fall into this equation of injustice. Contrary to any misinformed, distorted or fake news, this inescapable reality composes the human relational condition that pervades the existing human order with relational orphans—pervading even the church, countering and contradicting Jesus’ gospel (Jn 14:18). The disjunction between the common denominator of injustice and the integrating dynamic of just-nection raises questions about surrounding human conditions (past and present) for us to examine:

When we fact-check these various conditions, situations and circumstances in human life, they verify the existing reality of their premature justice and immature peace. In one way or another, in whatever extent, they all fall short of what Jesus brings and gives. Premature justice does not bring just-nection and immature peace does not give wholeness; and their premature and immature fruits expose the roots of the tree they come from. Moreover, while such prevailing premature justice and pervasive immature peace may serve the relative notion of the common good, they do not, will not and cannot work for the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel. What works in Jesus’ gospel only brings justice by uncommon change and gives peace through uncommon peace. As a further qualifier, what Jesus brings and gives do not preclude the diversity exercised in efforts for justice and peace but rather are against the reductionism expressed in their lack of maturity. Thus, the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel should not be confused with a common metanarrative that postmodernism opposes; nor should Jesus’ uncommon good be conflated with the grand narrative proposed by modernism, which has been adapted into traditional theology and the practice of the status quo.

The uncommon good Jesus brings and gives distinguishes only the uncommon, so that it is irreducibly incongruent with the common and, therefore, is nonnegotiably incompatible with anything common. Even a partial hybrid in theology or practice are indigestible for the uncommon’s integrity—as the church in Thyatira was corrected by Jesus’ critique (Rev 2:19-23). For the sentinels of human life to function in premature justice is to be misguided in their calling and to have misguided results. For the shepherds of God’s family to function with immature peace is to be misled in their purpose and to mislead others for the outcome. This immaturity creates a crisis of credibility about what sentinels and shepherds do bring and give. In Jesus’ perception and thinking, this existing condition is encompassed in the bad news of his gospel, which apparently has not been received to clearly distinguish whole-ly in much theology and practice today. But, not surprisingly, nothing more than the common (change, peace, good) can result and should be expected whenever what Jesus brings is countered and what he gives is contradicted.

In the uncommon good brought and given by Jesus, he constituted a new dimension for his rule of law, and this dimension is defining for his followers (notably his shepherds and sentinels) to distinguish them in the contexts of the common: reciprocating love—a new commandment of relational involvement with each other based just on the face-to-face experience of his intimate relational involvement with them (Jn 13:34-35). Jesus makes conclusive that reciprocating love is foremost what God desires from us in our relationship. That is, God doesn’t desire what we have and do—which is the human identity of a reduced theological anthropology—but our whole person relationally involved with him (as in Ps 40:6-7; 147:10-11, cf. Jn 4:23-24). Reciprocating love illuminates the relational reality of just-nection and thereby qualifies the embodying, enacting and enforcing of God’s rule of law condensed into love (Mt 22:34-40). This relational understanding composes the justice of love.

I have refrained from talking about God’s love until we have a better understanding of what the whole-ly God brings and gives in relational response to the human condition. God’s love has been highlighted too commonly apart from the whole relational context and process of the gospel, thereby rendering God’s love without its full relational significance or its whole relational outcome. Now I want to engage God’s love in the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel.

Contrary to common Christian thinking and perception, God’s love has less to do with serving and even less to do with sacrifice. God’s love (agape in the NT, hesed in the OT) certainly includes serving and sacrifice but it involves more depth. In God’s relational terms, love enacts the presence and involvement of the whole of who, what and how God is. That is, God’s righteousness and love are inseparable (Ps 85:10,13; 89:14), and without their dynamic integration God’s presence and involvement are ambiguous, if not concealed. Deeper than serving and beyond sacrifice, love makes vulnerable the presence and involvement of the whole who, what and how God is, and anything less and any substitutes of God (even in sacrifice on the cross) no longer constitute the encompassing depth of God’s love.

The pivotal enactment of God’s love, which expressed the justice of God’s love, emerged in the strategic shift of God’s presence and involvement that clarified any ambiguity and corrected any distortion of God’s relational response in the human context. When Jesus engaged face to face the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well (Jn 4:4-26, noted previously), he extended God’s whole presence and involvement to her (as in 4:10,14,23-26). His vulnerable relational response enacted the justice of God’s love that openly countered the gender, racial-ethnic and socio-religious injustice this woman experienced from the pervasive discrimination of others. In this strategic moment of God’s whole presence and involvement made vulnerable face to face, Jesus embodied, enacted and demonstrated for us the depth of relational involvement that constitutes the love he gives and the justice of love he brings. It is only on the relational basis of his relational involvement that his followers can understand his commandment to them, and thus also embody and enact reciprocating love from the vulnerable experience of his love face to face. This relational involvement is commonly confused with serving or sacrifice, but such actions neither require this involvement nor have its embracing depth.

Just as the Samaritan woman experienced face to face with Jesus (in her vulnerability also, Jn 4:15-20), the justice of God’s love brings just-nection, in which she enacted her vested and privileged rights to fulfill her inherent human need (Jn 4:28-30,39-42). Her just-nection emerged from the relational outcome of Jesus’ whole person making relational connection with her by his vulnerable relational involvement. In other words, Jesus loved her—not by serving her or sacrificing for her—and the depth of his relational involvement brought the uncommon change necessary to redeem her from injustice and to transform her condition to just-nection in order to give her wholeness. Thus, by his vulnerable relational involvement she experienced the relational reality of the whole who, what and how Subject God is—the strategic shift of the face of God whose presence and involvement shined on her and brought the uncommon change for new relationship together in wholeness. This is the integration of siym and shalom (Num 6:26) unfolding in the integrating dynamic of just-nection. Without the embracing depth of Jesus’ relational involvement, the justice intrinsic to God’s love does not unfold and thus its whole relational outcome of just-nection does not emerge. At best, what unfolds is premature justice that counters what Jesus brings, and what emerges is immature peace that contradicts what he gives.

This key interaction modelled Jesus’ ongoing vulnerable relational involvement that engaged his whole person with all persons, which he expressed also while on the cross (evident by his face-to-face involvement with diverse persons). The depth of his relational response and involvement face to face distinguishes (1) clearly how he loves us to constitute our involvement in reciprocating love, and (2) the whole relational outcome of just-nection that by necessity involves the justice of his love, which must be engaged for the right involvement in reciprocating love. Stopping short of Jesus’ relational involvement relegates our love to a default condition that can only bring the premature justice and give the immature peace of the common good; and such love would have had no relational significance to the Samaritan woman for significant change in her life filled with discrimination and injustice. Without the significant change of what filled up her life, how could she or anyone have their inherent human need filled to wholeness?

In his gospel, Jesus didn’t proclaim the concept of justice (as Mt 12:18 is commonly misconstrued). He vulnerably lived and enacted the relational terms of whole justice in its embracing depth of relational involvement—the integration of love and righteousness with faithfulness (as discussed previously in Ps 85:10,13; 89:14). Without the experiential reality of this integration, the relational process essential for justice is reduced to the concept of justice, which has no relational significance in spite of its claim for the common good. Jesus makes integral to justice the relational involvement of love, and this is primary over any other enforcement of the rule of law (as in Lk 11:42). For justice to have significance and to encompass the significant change needed for just-nection, it must be constituted by the justice of God’s love.

Jesus demanded that the righteousness of his followers go beyond and deeper than who, what and how the majority associated with the kingdom of God were (Mt 5:20). To function in God’s kingdom involves living daily in the realm of the uncommon while in the surrounding context of the common (as Jesus prayed, Jn 17:13-19). This relational process requires the right order of persons as inner-out subjects, who are governed by Subject God not to merely conform to the rule of law but to be relationally involved according to God’s integral ‘rule of justice’, as defined only by God’s relational terms (laws) for relationship together. Therefore, contrary to common practice, to love our neighbor involves going beyond and deeper than doing something positive for them, even if that’s what we would like ourselves (enacting the Golden Rule). The underlying thinking in just a positive response is that any such action is “good” and thus would also be right for the common good.

Jesus clarified and corrected such thinking and action with his ongoing vulnerable presence and relational involvement. The new dimension of reciprocating love that Jesus constituted for his rule of law and of justice encompassed the depth of God’s relational terms for the right order of relationship together—the only human order for just-nection in wholeness. As Jesus prayed, however, God’s relational terms are holy, distinguished uncommon from the common, and therefore cannot be confused or conflated with our human terms shaped by or enveloped in common terms. Yet, the line of distinction between the uncommon and common has blurred, become obscure or simply assumed to be insignificant or of little consequence.

When Jesus’ disciples returned to find him interacting with the Samaritan woman, “they were astonished” (surprised, amazed, thaumazo, Jn 4:27). Given the discrimination prevailing that constructed the existing human order in their context, they assumed that Jesus would conduct himself according to such normative relations. They understood

neither the embracing depth of his relational involvement with her that distinguished how he also loved them, nor the relational purpose of his involvement to bring just-nection that distinguishes the right involvement for their reciprocating love. Jesus challenged them to enact this embracing depth of relational involvement in order to extend the justice of God’s love for the just-nection of all persons without making distinctions, and to build on its relational outcome of wholeness for all persons and relationships (4:34-38). If they (we) do not make their whole person vulnerable for this depth of relational involvement with all persons without using distinctions—“just as I have loved you”—there will not be justice in their love. Rather their actions will be rendered to default love, whose reduced function even enables injustice and disables justice to prevent just-nection. This would have happened to the Samaritan woman if Jesus had not relationally involved his whole person vulnerably face to face with her person without distinctions.

Even though it is common Christian thinking, it is puzzling to say or hear that the God of love calls the people of God to love. This statement amounts to an oxymoron that assumes persons can experience God’s love in relationship without the reciprocal involvement of love. After all, as the thinking goes, “God is love” and those associated with God experience that love—contrary to “those who are relationally involved [meno] in love are relationally involved with God” (1 Jn 4:16, extending Jn 15:9-12).

What is expressed in this statement is a default mode of love composed by persons of reduced human ontology and function, which then shapes God’s ontology and function in our likeness and the common way of human relationships. To receive love, however uncommon, persons have to open their hearts to be vulnerably involved as subjects (not mere objects) to receive God (not just the action of God’s love); and this intimate involvement is the very nature of love defined by God only in the primacy of relationship together—the primacy of how God engages relationships and not how humans do them. Thus, to experience love in God’s relational terms is to reciprocate with the relational involvement necessary to consummate the love connection—as Peter had to learn with much difficulty (Jn 13:8).

In other words—which may also have difficulty for us—those who truly experience God’s love are those in relational involvement who love back and who extend their love to others in ongoing relational involvement. The uncommon relational outcome of this reciprocal relational process also involves continuing to experience God’s love further and deeper. So, God doesn’t extend to us a special calling to love but rather counts on the further extension of our love from the irreducible relational process of experiencing “just as I love you.” And this relational outcome deepens for our persons as subjects only when human distinctions no longer define our persons and determine our relationships together. Otherwise, what emerges is the default mode of love expressed by persons reduced in their ontology and function. Default love reconstructs God’s love without his righteousness and justice (without the integration of Ps 89:14); and without this integration persons don’t know and cannot understand God but can only boast about their distinctions (Jer 9:23-24).

The justice of God’s love is distinctly more difficult than default love, though the latter has its issues. The just order of relationships for God’s people as subjects is not defined and determined foremost by love but by holy—that is, the uncommon God whose love for us is just uncommon to our human experience of love. Based solely on experiencing God’s uncommon love, we are to love in reciprocal likeness, and with nothing less and no substitutes from common love. To confuse uncommon love with common love (including the common notion of “unconditional love”) or to conflate them relegates that love to default love lacking just-nection. God’s people, Jesus’ followers, are distinguished only by the uncommon, as persons who function clearly distinguished in the uncommon love of God’s righteousness and justice—the right relationship order of the whole of who, what and how the Trinity is. The experience of God’s uncommon love is the only way that default love can be changed to uncommon love. Yet, this experience only happens through the uncommon relational connection of vulnerable relational involvement; and until this relational involvement is ongoingly engaged (not a singular moment at conversion), we cannot reciprocate in the justice of God’s love “just as I have loved you.” Thus, we also cannot simulate this relational involvement without our experience of God’s love being nothing more than an illusion.

Peter had difficulty engaging vulnerable relational involvement, which prevented the uncommon relational connection with Jesus to experience his love (notably at his footwashing). That relegated Peter to function merely in default love, even in all his bold claims and good intentions to be with Jesus (e.g. Jn 13:37; Lk 22:33). When Jesus asked Peter those pivotal questions (Jn 21:15-18), he wasn’t asking whether Peter merely loved him in his default mode. He wanted Peter’s relational involvement in uncommon love “just as I loved you.” What relegates our function to default love is to live in the default condition of reduced ontology and function; and the reality is that we simply fall into a default condition in everyday life whenever we don’t live daily in whole ontology and function.

When we integrate the depth of what Jesus enacted irreducibly and said nonnegotiably regarding love—fully embracing who was present and what was involved in everyday life—this is how uncommon love is distinguished from default love:

4. The significance of being vulnerable involves my whole person from inner out.

When uncommon love is distinguished, the justice of love emerges to define persons and determine relationships as follows:

1. The justice of love involves whole persons from inner out without any distinctions from outer in.

2. Whole persons functioning without outer-in distinctions are vulnerable in order to be relationally involved with other persons without reducing them to outer-in distinctions.

3. Persons without outer-in distinctions make the depth of relational connection that unfolds in the right order of relationships for the just-nection of all persons.

Accordingly, the justice of love defining persons as whole and determining relationships as right does not, will not and cannot emerge without the vulnerable relational involvement of uncommon love. Unless persons are engaged in this uncommon relational involvement—irreducible to the common and nonnegotiable to human terms—their actions fall into default love that can only bring the change for common peace to serve the common good.

Christians fall into default love by the choice (intentionally or inadvertently by default) to not assert who, what and how they are as subjects in everyday life. Subjects make the conscious choice not to reduce their person in contrast to Christians who defer. Thus, they become like objects shaped by their surrounding contexts and fall into a default condition of reduced ontology and function. When our identity and function are influenced or shaped by reductionism, we are defined by the extent of what we do and have. ‘What we do’ ranges from our achievements and successes to our failures, and ‘what we have’ encompasses our abilities, resources, physical attributes or lack thereof. Consider how our persons are assessed and categorized in everyday life by our resumes, and why these resumes are critical for determining our life. What we do and have compose distinctions that define our identity and determine our function; and values are attached to these distinctions by the inevitable comparative process that structures persons and relationships in a stratified order. Whenever such distinctions are made and wherever they exist, there is a value attached to each of them that determines the comparative position of persons in that stratified order. This categorizing of persons is a fact of life that pervades the church and its order; and this reality needs to be addressed by an uncommon choice in order to bring uncommon change.

The disciples used the gender, ethnic, social and religious distinctions of the Samaritan woman to not be involved with her. Peter used the distinctions of Jesus as Teacher and Lord to avoid being vulnerably involved with Jesus; and he used the Gentile distinction to discriminate against them, even after learning that “God made no distinctions” (Acts 15:9). Their default love reflected their choice as objects to live by reduced ontology and function, whereby they defined their own persons by the valued distinction of “the greatest.” Based solely on the primacy of persons from inner out involved in relationship together, Subject God corrected the value placed on such distinctions (Jer 9:23-24), and also clarified that God’s people are not responded to by Subject God because of any valued distinction they had (Dt 7:7-9). Moreover, he exposed the common influence of distinctions and how this creates bias that disables justice and enables injustice (Ex 23:2-3; Lev 19:15), and thereby contradicts the ontology and function of the whole-ly God (Dt 10:17; 2 Chr 19:7).

Counter to default love, God’s uncommon love is enacted so that the justice of love will unfold the whole relational outcome for persons and the right relational process, involvement, connection and order for their relationships. Since human distinctions are a prevailing reality for everyday life, the issue of this simple fact is “what do Christians choose to do about it?” Do we choose to allow it to define our persons or other persons? Do we choose to allow it to determine how we are involved in relationships? Or do we choose to assert our person as subjects and exercise who, what and how we are from inner out, and thus not allow human distinctions to influence or shape us in reduced ontology and function for our response of love?

When our relational involvement of love goes deeper than human distinctions, our relational response is freed from any bias that limits, constrains or even prevents relational involvement with persons we dislike and with our enemies. Default love could be nice, irenic or positive with those persons, but distinctions have already precluded the depth of vulnerable relational involvement. The justice of love is not about merely being nice and involves not just making friends and influencing enemies; and this love is not about being different but involves being uncommon. On the other hand, uncommon love shouldn’t be confused with ‘tough love’. Default love can act firmly and sternly but the level of relational involvement is not vulnerable to be hurt, to suffer or be anguished…“just as I love you.”

There are no shortcuts in the justice of love. Its difficulty is in the relational terms constituted by God, which are irreducible to the common and nonnegotiable to human terms. “Do you love me?” is not answered by common love. Love each other, your neighbor and your enemies are not responded to by default love. Just-nection for persons and relationships does not emerge from premature justice, nor does their wholeness unfold with immature peace. Until the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel prevails in our theology and practice, pervading the biases of our Christian traditions, church systems and ministry operations, we cannot and should not expect anything more. Anything less and any substitutes are rooted in reductionism, which operates subtly by the (over)simplification of human issues and then the common-izing of human responses to the human condition—all reinforced and sustained by Christians in default function. Until we make the conscious choice as subjects to ongoingly engage the critical battle against reductionism as all sin, the shame of our status quo will continue. Without the uncommon relational involvement distinguished by Jesus’ gospel, only common change can occur at the most, with common peace the most optimistic result possible. And unless we expect from each other the embracing depth of relational involvement as Jesus loves us, our default love signifies a crisis in urgent need of the transformation emerging only from uncommon change.

We have to understand the uncommon good that Jesus brings and gives to know what justice is. We have to know what justice is from inner out to understand injustice; and we have to be aware of injustice to live daily in justice from inner out. Being aware of injustice, however, is an entangled problem when our understanding of injustice is biased. This has been an ongoing problem ever since “good” was common-ized and “evil” was renegotiated, making it variable and relative. Therefore, we need to face these related questions: “Where are you—in your person from inner out?” and How has reductionism shifted your person to outer in and defined your identity by such distinctions?

The reality also facing us is the fact that how injustice is seen and thought of have varying understanding and relative ascription. This reality produces benign injustice, which promotes illusions of justice by dulling or obscuring awareness of existing injustice. And the distinctions used for persons and relationships are at the core of this reductionist process. When his disciples were entrenched in such distinctions and preoccupied with having the privilege of “the greatest,” Jesus corrected their thinking and lens by changing that so-called privilege into the right human order. Persons of privilege live in unequal relationships that are stratified by power relations or by those “called benefactors” (Lk 22:24-25). Jesus alerted them to the gray areas of the human order that make up benign injustice.

Benefactors are identified with distinctions of privilege, prestige and power, and how they have functioned in their distinction has varied—with mixed results and reviews. Consider how the default love of benefactors is composed by paternalism. Many recipients also consider God’s love as paternalistic and render God the ultimate Benefactor. This confuses common love for uncommon love, and many benefactors conflate their actions with God’s love. Paternalism, however, functions contrary to uncommon love and thus in contradiction to the uncommon good that Jesus brings and gives.

Any paternalistic action directed to others always emerges from an upper position in the relational order, whether that order is recognized as stratified or not. It is from this position of privilege, prestige and power that recipients receive, and thus by implication are relegated to a lower position—whether explicit or implicit in the so-called positive action. Intrinsic in this comparative process is the formulation of a deficit model to measure the recipients, which both measures all recipient persons as less than benefactors and also tells those less what they need to measure up to in order to rise higher in this human order. The deficit model has been imposed by those more to subtly subordinate those less and to maintain the inequality between them. Those less only reinforce and sustain such inequality when they accept the deficit model for their self-assessment.

This is the unavoidable result: the ongoing engagement in relationships and treatment of persons composed by personal, institutional, systemic and structural inequality; and this inequity is consequential for both preventing just-nection and enabling injustice however benign paternalism may seem.

Consider further. The paternalistic efforts of liberal ideology have promoted a deficit model in U.S. race relations, which has only maintained the reduced identity and function of minorities in the fragmentary human condition. Many would consider this progress from past use of a deficit model that categorized minorities as sub-human, less human, inferior humans, or simply unworthy persons. Yet, the label of second-class persists for any use of a deficit model for persons. Thus, in existing race relations, whether politically, economically, educationally or just socially, the right human order has not emerged to stop enabling injustice, much less bring change to stop disabling justice and turn to just-nection. This state of paternalism has been exacerbated by the existing reality of benevolent sexism.[3] While benevolent sexism is certainly more benign than sexual abuse, all such paternalistic actions have relegated females to a deficit condition and related position on the comparative scale—which then must also be construed as sexual misconduct. This deficit has had exponential consequences for all persons of both genders and their relationships together and separate (e.g. comparative masculinity among males).

Christians have not been on the sidelines of paternalism or removed from its consequences. On the contrary, Christians have directly engaged in paternalistic efforts, strongly supported paternalism if not led it, and widely been complicit with its consequences. Christian missions from the West, of course, led the way with its paternalism (with colonialist variations) imposed on others with a deficit model. Western theology has been paternalistic with its views, insisting on (imposing) its so-called correct doctrine so that the rest of the world will be “correct” in its theology and practice. Even Christian justice and peace ministries have engaged in paternalistic efforts that by default reinforce a deficit model without bringing the uncommon-redemptive change that gives uncommon peace.

The bad news of Jesus’ gospel counters any good news used that contradicts the uncommon good brought and given by Jesus. Such misinformed, misrepresenting or fact-less news have been a critical issue for the prophets of God’s words, the shepherds of God’s family, and the sentinels of human life. For example, there were false prophets who said “the Lord declares…” when the Lord had not spoken, and who proclaimed “Peace when there is no peace” (Eze 13:1-10, cf. Jer 8:11)—all acting with a benign sense of injustice that common-ized the peace the face of God gives.

These signify the false hopes today that must be unmistakably contrasted from the distinguished relational hope placed in Subject God’s relational response of love to bring just-nection and give uncommon peace. In ancient history, Israel errored in confusing the kingdom of God with nationalism, and they mistook their uncommon identity with the common distinction of exceptionalism—all conflated under the assumption of having God’s favor (counter to Dt 7:7-9). In modern history, the U.S. also makes similar confusing and conflating assessments of itself, along with the false assumption of “one nation under God” as “God’s chosen nation.” Many evangelicals in the U.S. proclaim this news as the gospel. The bad news of Jesus’ gospel, however, exposes this so-called good news as misinformed, fact-less or fake news, which misleadingly promotes illusions of justice by a lens of benign injustice that common-izes peace.

Unless we remain steadfast in proclaiming the gospel by paltering (selectively stating only part of the gospel) and persist in avoiding Jesus’ bad news by confirmation bias (selectively using only that which supports our beliefs), then we are faced with the reality of his bad news:

If how we see and think of injustice excludes benign injustice, then our understanding of injustice is deficient because we lack knowing justice from inner out. The consequence is having a bias in how we act in everyday life, which makes us inconsistent in our daily actions because justice has become relative for us—with

permissible rights variably composed, enacted and enforced. Since this reflects not understanding the uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel to know what justice truly is, how we act is limited to default love and is constrained to the common good. Under this limit and constraint, our actions then in reality subtly enable injustice and disable justice, and thus which reinforces and sustains the (our) human condition. Without uncommon change, therefore, this condition prevents just-nection and the enforcement of vested rights and privileged rights to fulfill the inherent human need of all persons. The reality of all this evidences both the influence of reductionism exerted on how we think, see and act, and the extent of common-ization in our theology and practice.

Jesus shared unequivocally, “my uncommon peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives…as Israel gave…as the U.S. gives.” Based on the fact-checked integrated bad and good news of what Jesus brings and gives, here we are at this critical juncture—which we need to resolve unmistakably or be relegated by default to the common alternative:

The uncommon good of Jesus’ gospel brings just uncommon change and gives just uncommon peace. Anything less and any substitutes in our gospel are on a wider theological trajectory and an easier relational path than Jesus. This wide trajectory and easy path need to be turned around and transformed down to their common roots, so that uncommon good fruit will grow and mature to fulfill the inherent human need of all persons—persons distinguished from inner out, without distinctions, for their wholeness in equalized relationships together.

[1] Two examples by Christians, who center on the common good but don’t address assumptions about it, are: Jim Wallis, The (Un)Common Good: How the Gospel Brings Hope to a World Divided (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2014), and Miroslav Volf and Ryan McAnnally-Linz, Public Faith in Action: How to Think Carefully, Engage Wisely, and Vote with Integrity (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2016).

[2] Further discussion on globalization, aimed at the global church, is engaged openly by Vinoth Ramachandra, Subverting Global Myths: Theology and the Public Issues Shaping Our World (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2008).

[3] The sexist dynamics engaged in benevolent sexism (formerly known as ambiguous sexism) is noted by Peter Glick and Susan T. Fiske, “Hostile and Benevolent Sexism: Measuring Ambivalent Sexist Attitudes toward Women,” in Psychology of Women Quarterly, March 1, 1997. http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/aba/10-1111/j.1471-6402.1977.tb00104.x.