Martin Luther King, Jr. offers candid reflections on faith, culture, and politics in the United States. Coretta Scott King says that, of all her late husband’s writings, Strength to Love is the work that people most consistently describe as life-changing.

A strong human being is one that has sets of opposing traits working simultaneously within him. It is when thesis and antithesis are mightily present in a person, creatively interacting, that life is at its fullest. Most people don’t strike this balance between opposite traits. Those who are more practical have a difficult time dreaming, and the idealists have difficulty grounding their thoughts. The humble are rarely assertive, and the assertive aren’t often humble.

Jesus seemed to recognize the need to blend opposites. When he sent his disciples out to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, he instructed them to, “be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.” It doesn’t seem possible, but this is what Jesus expects. What does it look like to maintain this blend?

Jesus’ teaching is a call for us to have both a tough mind and a tender heart. Tough-mindedness is necessary to persevere in the midst of struggle. Without it, there’s no fortitude to stick to a commitment. The soft-minded are taken in by advertisements, propaganda, and false facts. They’re easily blown off course.

Of course, tough-mindedness alone is horribly inadequate. It needs to work in tandem with soft-heartedness. Without it, tough-mindedness becomes cold and mean, incapable of compassion. Tough-mindedness without tenderheartedness is severe and bitter; tenderheartedness without tough-mindedness is saccharine and directionless.

The Negro who is tenderhearted without being tough-minded caves to the current institutions which withhold his rights and freedoms. He is like the Israelite that does not want the hassles of freedom but longs to return to the security of Egypt. The Negro who is tough-minded without being tenderhearted is embittered and resorts to violence against his oppressors.

There is a third way, however, a path that incorporates both the wisdom and resolution of the serpent and the love and peacefulness of the dove. This is the path of nonviolent resistance. It does not succumb to the vices of violence on one hand or complacency on the other. It seeks reform of a broken system while loving those who perpetuate that system. It is good that we worship a God of justice and mercy. He is the perfect exemplar of tough-mindedness and tenderheartedness. If he were only justice, he would be impersonal and severe, like Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover, self-knowing but not other-loving. If God were only merciful, his sentimentality would make him impotent, incapable of dealing with sin. God dynamically possesses both qualities.

Jesus’ command to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us might be his most difficult injunction. Many have deemed it impossible. For others, like German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, Jesus’ words attest to a pathetic Christian ethic that appeals to the weak rather than the courageous.

Despite these objections, we find challenge and opportunity to embody Jesus’ message in an era consumed with hate. The road we are traveling can only lead to destruction. Far from starry-eyed idealism, Jesus’ command to love is immensely practical, the solution to all our problems, and the key to humanity’s survival. Jesus was not ignorant of how challenging it is to love an enemy, but he still insists on it.

So how exactly do we love our enemies?

First and foremost, we must develop and hold on to the ability to forgive. Without the power to forgive, there’s no power to love. Forgiveness initiates a process of reconciliation—literally, a coming together again.

Second, we must remember that no evil deed of our enemy-neighbor defines him.  There’s goodness even in your worst enemy and evil even in your kindest friend, and there is a civil war raging in each of us throughout our lives.

Third, we are not out to humiliate our enemy-neighbor, but to become his friend. The enemy’s misstep is not an opportunity for us to exploit him, but to create understanding, to let waves of goodwill crash against hate’s defenses. This kind of love is not sappy and effusive or sexual. The scriptures speak about different kinds of love: eros, philia, and agape.

Eros is sexual. Philia connotes mutual affection. Agape is an unconditional love for the other person for the other’s sake, without expectation of anything in return. It’s God’s love at work in the human heart. We love someone not because we esteem him, not because we get along with him, not because he offers something we need, not even because he’s a fellow possessor of the divine. We love him because God does. We hate the evil acts, but love the perpetrator.

Communism is a subject that deserves sober thought and discussion within the church. Its  widespread influence around the world makes it Christianity’s most prominent rival. Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism are other competing belief systems, but none is nearly so close to home and compelling to believers as Communism. Yet another reason Communism merits exploration is that it would be ignorant to dismiss a belief system without first examining the validity of its claims.

It should be stated very plainly that Christianity and Communism are fundamentally incompatible. Communism is a materialistic philosophy that makes no room in its framework for God or Christ. God is an illusion, and religion is an opiate. Communism also endorses a moral relativism. It is bent on upending the bourgeoisie through a proletariat rebellion by any means at its disposal and is not tethered by moral absolutes. Whatever it takes to end class warfare. As one of Communism’s early patriarchs, Vladimir Lenin, put it, “We must be ready to employ trickery, deceit, law-breaking, withholding and concealing truth.” Recent history is replete with tragic instances of Lenin’s disciples closely following this teaching. By contrast, Christianity puts forward a system of absolute moral values that God has woven into the very fabric of existence. It refuses to bend to the allure of expediency. Cruel means do not justify favorable ends.

Another point of fundamental incompatibility with Communism is that the State enjoys ultimate value. The advocate might protest that the State is temporary and will eventually wither away. This is, of course, in theory. But man is not the end in this interim period, during which a person’s rights are granted or curtailed at the pleasure of the State. This is perhaps Communism’s chief problem: it deprives people of the very thing that makes us most human:  freedom. We are reduced to labor animals contributing to the collective. The State was made for man, not man for the State.

All of these problems render Communism utterly incompatible with the Christian faith, but capitalism is not without its own issues. Its tendency to widen the chasm between rich and poor is tragic. The main point to pay attention to is that the kingdom of God critiques both economic systems.

It’s also worth mentioning that Communism grew out of a response to abuse and exploitation. Communists were addressing things that the church had largely failed to address. Their diligence and commitment to their cause is also commendable. If only more Christians were as committed to the vision of Christ as Communists are to the vision of Marx! It’s an attempt to redress social evils, and aspects of the vision are compelling. Unity and the removal of barriers of class or caste or creed resonate deeply with the Christian message that in Christ there is no Jew or Gentile, slave or free, Negro or white.

The best response to Communism and its dangers is not with missiles and wiretaps, but a deep, revolutionary commitment to righteousness and justice.

“Do not be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Romans 12:2

There is an onslaught of voices urging us to keep the status quo, to go with the crowd, and not to defend an unpopular cause. These influences are subliminal and all the more powerful for it. Some fields of study reinforce this idea, like sociology and social psychology. A popular social contract theory is that morality is determined by consensus of the majority, and everyone else must then conform to that norm. Psychologists and economists describe the benefits of one’s thinking aligning with the perspective of others.

But conforming is not Paul’s exhortation—it’s transforming. Jesus himself was a paragon of principled nonconformity. His example still speaks to our modern times. He reminds us that our lives don’t consist of our possessions. So the big house and new car do not make us better or more important—whatever our society might tell us. Jesus also tells us that we are blessed when we’re persecuted for the sake of righteousness. But that blessing comes to those who choose the path of conviction rather than comfort. We also miss opportunities to love mercy and justice. The white Southern man who believes that blacks and whites alike are equal in worth and invites blacks into his home or joins them in the fight for freedom gets subjected to legal investigation and community reprisal. Anyone who asserts the brotherhood of man is considered a Communist and made a pariah.

In a culture of “jumboism,” where bigger is considered better, there’s nothing more terrifying for many people than standing out, than being part of a tiny minority. We need to get back to the early church, when communities were driven by conviction rather than convenience. They comprised a small minority, but the early believers’ actions shook the foundations of the mighty Roman Empire. They refused to compromise their witness in order to fit in, and as a result, the good news brought an end to the common practices of infanticide and brutal gladiatorial games.

Now nonconformity is not inherently good. There are plenty of people who deviate from the norm, but it is hardly a noble cause. Furthermore, there are plenty of nonconformists who are bitter and unwilling to change themselves. The Apostle Paul specifies to readers what nonconformity entails: “being transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

The untransformed nonconformists tend to be angry, embittered people. They are ready to reform everything except their own attitude. Only inner transformation will lead us to fight injustice with humility and kindness. The choice is before each of us: will I be a thermometer, which merely measures the temperature of popular opinion; or will I be a thermostat, which changes the social atmosphere? We are called to combat social evils—not hide behind a stained-glass veil.

Is there a single person who has never experienced pervasive and paralyzing fear that will not leave? These fears take many forms, from fear of illness to fear of ostracization to fear of death. Fear of the unknown can lead to aimlessness or alcoholism or sexual promiscuity. There’s the fear of racial annihilation. With the proliferation of nuclear weapons in the United States, Russia, and China, people fear utter destruction. We build bomb shelters and worry that a poorly chosen word from a diplomat could tilt us toward Armageddon.  

Fear can’t be completely eliminated and this is actually a good thing. Fear has enabled us to survive over the millennia. It has the power to inspire creativity and courage. We must differentiate between healthy, normal fear and abnormal fear. For Sigmund Freud, it’s the difference between a fear of snakes while traversing the jungle and fear of snakes under your rug in a city flat. The former is healthy and protects us; the latter paralyzes us.

The goal isn’t to rid ourselves of fear but to master it. How is this done?

First of all, we master fear by facing it down and seeing it for what it is. This is empowering and often takes the force from fear. Fear is a mishandling of imagination, so to compare our imaginings with reality can be very useful. It’s possible that these fears are linked to unfortunate childhood events. By identifying these things, they are held accountable to reality and shrivel in the light.

We also master fear through courage. Courage is what unites reason and desire. Thomas Aquinas described it as fortitude to confront whatever comes between you and the highest good. It’s a refusal to be overcome by fear.

A third way we master fear is through love. The scriptures tell us that perfect love casts out fear. It’s why Christ bore the cross and stayed on the cross amidst mockery and pain. Love disrupts the cycle of fear leading to hate leading to war leading to even deeper hate. If we look at racial injustice, we can see that our white brothers are full of fear: fear of losing economic and social standing, of intermarriage, and of societal norms different from the ones they’ve known. Their mastering of these fears will require a deep dependence on Christ’s love, but also the love of Christ that Negroes extend to them.

Fear is also mastered through faith. Psychotherapy is useful for confronting the abnormal fears of life, but to what extent can it help us with the deeper existential fears of death and non-being? The psychiatrist is limited in these regards if he is not a man of religious faith because it is faith that provides the strength of mind to face life’s greatest strains and uncertainties with fortitude and a sense of purpose. A universe without meaning and purpose sets the stage for despair; it saps even the most optimistic of courage and zeal for life. Religion gives us the confidence that we’re not alone in this universe. We are not debris aimlessly meandering through time and space, but beloved children of the Most High God who pays attention to every detail of life, from the motions of the planets to the modest sparrow.

We would do well to internalize the words that were commonly framed on walls of homes:

Fear knocked at the door.

Faith answered.

There was no one there.