From Victims to Villains Recap
When the Empire Rewrites Suffering
I recently shared a reflection on social media about the chaos unfolding in our world and in our own land. Instead of a long-form post, I created a visual carousel. Something that allows the message to unfold one thought at a time.
It’s a mix of theology, protest, and compassion meant to challenge, comfort, and, hopefully, shift perspectives.
You can view it below in addition to the full article. I’d love to know what it stirs in you.
Full Written Post:
There is a moment when suffering becomes inconvenient, not because it has ended, but because it has begun to speak too loudly. A mother crying at a border. A grown man pressed against a fence. A chant rising in the public square thousands of miles away. At first, these images trouble the conscience. Then they threaten the narrative. Finally, they are rebranded as dangerous. Now we know how victims become villains.
The “Empire” always needs a villain. When it runs out of monsters, it manufactures them from the wounded. When power feels fragile, it does not first reach for violence; it reforms the language. It decides who may be seen as human and who must be framed as a problem. The stranger becomes an “illegal.” The grieving become “rioters.” The desperate become “threats.” Language does the first act of violence, so that policy can finish the job. I love how the Proverb warns that death and life are in the power of the tongue (Proverbs 18:21).
In the United States, the people are to uphold its laws, but a proper observation of Scripture never confuses legality with righteousness. The law has always been accountable to God, not the other way around. The prophet Isaiah spoke: “Woe to those who make unjust laws to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed” (Isaiah 10:1–2). Again and again, the biblical story exposes the same pattern. The Israelites arrive in Egypt as guests and leave as enemies of the state (Exodus 1:8–14). We see that prophets are labeled traitors for telling the truth (Jeremiah 38:1–6). Healers (ministers of the land) become criminals once the crowds grow too large (Acts 7).
Jesus Himself was executed for disruption. The Gospels are explicit: Rome and religious leaders conspired because they feared losing control (John 11:48–53). The “Empire” speaks loudly and demands strongly. When compassion threatens control, compassion is labeled dangerous. When protests erupt around the world, we are instructed to focus on broken windows instead of broken lives. See the flames, not the funerals. Hear the sirens, not the silence. Believe the lie told in the media, not the truth the video shows.
Yet, Scripture shows that public lament has always been holy. The Psalms cry aloud in the streets. The prophets interrupt public order with grief. Jesus overturns tables and weeps openly over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41–44). Protest is grief that has nowhere else to go.
I pose a question: Are safety and compassion opposites? They are not. What truly frightens the empire is not disorder; it is radical compassion. Radical compassion closes the distance. It turns “them” into “us,” and “I” into “We.” And once that happens, the story breaks. So the wounded must be renamed. The displaced must be feared. The protesters must be punished because they are visible. Scripture has a Rhemah word for this:
“Then I looked again at all the acts of oppression which were being done under the sun. And behold I saw the tears of the oppressed and that they had no one to comfort them; and on the side of their oppressors was power, but they had no one to comfort them” (Ecclesiastes 4:1).
Across cultures, continents, and centuries, humanity has shared a moral intuition beyond its many differences: life is sacred. It bears meaning beyond utility. Genesis 1:27 names it plainly: human beings are made in the image of God (given purpose, dignity, value, and worth). I was not aware that this image expires at birth or diminishes at a border, disappears under poverty, accent, stress, or paperwork.
We claim to honor life, yet show astonishing comfort in degrading grown adults who bear that same image. Men and women with histories, memories, children, and names. Scripture never limits dignity to the unborn or the innocent alone. It commands honor for the stranger (Leviticus 19:34), justice for the poor (Amos 5:24), and protection for the vulnerable regardless of status (Deuteronomy 10:18–19). To deny dignity to adults is to confess that our theology of life is incomplete. #Breathe
Sanctity must not stop at the act of preventing death. What about degradation? Jesus not only kept people alive, but He also restored their dignity. He touched those deemed untouchable (Mark 1:40–42). He spoke with those society silenced (John 4). He warned that how we treat “the least of these” is how we treat Him (Matthew 25:40).
Objection, sir!
The Bible commands obedience to the law. Yes, and that same Bible honors those who disobeyed unjust laws in obedience to God. Hebrew midwives defied Pharaoh to preserve life (Exodus 1:15–17). Daniel defied the king’s decree (Daniel 6). The apostles defied the state and said plainly, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Biblical obedience has never meant moral silence.
Objection, sir!
Jesus was not political. Jesus was executed by the state, charged as a threat to public order, and killed under Roman authority (Luke 23). He confronted power, disrupted exploitative systems, and condemned religious leaders who used Scripture to burden the vulnerable (Matthew 23).
Objection, sir!
This is too emotional. I haven’t found in Scripture where emotion is treated as the enemy of truth. The prophets wept. The Psalms screamed. Jesus Himself wept (John 11:35). The problem is that indifference, not compassion, is what Scripture condemns (Revelation 3:15–16).
See, the real objection is not theological. It will be costly in proportion. To accept that victims are being turned into villains requires a change in language, a pivot in allegiance, and a willingness to be misunderstood. Until then, this is how the “Empires” objections multiply. Victims do not become villains by nature. The “Empire” reforms them. And the measure of our humanity will be found here: whether we accept that story, or refuse it.
-bW