The justice of the cross

In what sense was the cross of Christ just?

The cross was a execution device, a slow, painful, public death intended for insurrectionists like Barabbas (Luke 23:19). Someone caught financing the fight against Rome could say, “We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve, but this man has done nothing wrong” (Luke 23:41).

Even by the standards of the Roman empire, there was no justice in the cross of Christ:

Luke 23:13-15 (NIV)
¹³ Pilate called together the chief priests, the rulers and the people, ¹⁴ and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against him. ¹⁵ Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us; as you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death.”

In human justice systems, the punishment must fit the crime. The cross of Christ was not just by any standard. There is no justice in executing someone who has done nothing to deserve death. Nevertheless, some Christians have tried to justify the cross of Christ as meeting the standards of divine justice.

A well-known example from the Middle Ages compares God to a lord offended by his subjects. A feudal lord could set the penalty his subjects must pay to restore his honour. In this analogy, humanity’s sin is the offence against God, and death is the penalty. Humanity should die, but an innocent human can pay the penalty for them. According to this theory, the death of Jesus for humanity satisfies the justice of God.

But before pressing analogies of our justice onto God, consider whether divine justice differs from ours. Human justice systems rely on retribution. The crime cannot be undone, so we require compensation. If I damage your car, I should pay to fix it. If you are harmed in the crash and can no longer work, you should be compensated.

Measured retribution was foundational for the law God gave Israel at Sinai: “If there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise.” (Exodus 21:23-24). In fact, God had already authorized people to take the life of a murderer (Genesis 9:6), authority foundational to the rise of nations and kingdoms (Genesis 10).

But what disturbs me is that, even though God authorized retribution for human governments, it’s not how God handled justice in the beginning. In the record of the first murder, the family wanted retribution, and God refused them. God offended our sense of justice by placing the murderer under royal protection: Cain said …, “Whoever finds me will kill me.” … Then Lord put a mark on Cain so that no one who found him would kill him (Genesis 4:13-15).

In what sense is that just? Abel died without offspring, and Cain lived on to establish a city that relied on violence for justice (Genesis 4:24). The good die, and the violent take over. What kind of world is God running?

God’s answer is in the next sentence:

Genesis 4:25 (NIV)
Adam made love to his wife again, and she gave birth to a son and named him Seth, saying, “God has granted me another child in place of Abel, since Cain killed him.”

God dealt with the injustice not by taking a life, but by giving a life. That was Eve’s understanding of divine justice in the beginning, when God tried cases of injustice directly.

I live in a remote part of the world, but even here in Western Australia there are murders. It takes years for the courts to process the crime, but when it eventually results in a conviction, the media asks the grieving family, “Has justice been done?” Regardless of the penalty imposed, the family usually responds, “It doesn’t bring back my loved one.”

Divine justice is not like human justice. God can undo injustice by raising the dead.

The injustice of the cross was Jesus bearing in his own body the sin of the world, its rebellion against its heavenly sovereign expressed in the assassination of his Christ. No human justice can mitigate the injustice of the cross. What retribution would Caesar have taken against a city that killed his son?

But God is not like Caesar. God’s justice is restorative. Instead of taking retributive justice, God gives restorative justice. On the third day, God overturns the injustice of the cross by breathing life back into the body of his Christ, giving us back the one he appointed as Lord of all.

God’s life-giving justice has no analogy in human justice. Instead of making us pay, God requires just one thing of us: that we recognize his Christ as our Lord, placing our faith in his leadership. The gospel is God’s good-news proclamation that his Christ is our Lord, and in giving our loyalty to God’s Messiah we are set right with God (justified by faith).

So rather than understanding the cross as God demanding retribution for our sin, we recognize the cross as Christ carrying in his own body the sin of the world that rejected God’s authority. Divine justice raises him up, and ultimately raises us up in him.

We want someone to pay. The martyrs in John’s vision cry, “How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” (Revelation 6:10) God does not give them the justice they want. They’re told to wait, that others too will die. At the end of the story, God’s answer is to raise the dead. God undoes the injustice of their martyrdom by raising them out of death—just as God did for Jesus.

Our justice demands retribution. God’s justice has always been about restoration. At the end of the story, when he has restored heaven and earth, the one who sits on the throne explains what he’s been doing all along: “Behold!! I am making all things new.” (Revelation 21:5)

How will you tell the story of the cross this Easter?

Related posts

• The counter-intuitive wisdom of the cross
• How Jesus explained the cross (Mt 20:17-19)
• The meaning of the cross (Mt 27:32–44)