Divine Violence in the Book of Revelation

Today I am going to share something that I have been thinking about for a while. It’s about how Jesus executes justice when He returns a second time. Many of us think that He is going to do it with great violence. 

You know, before Jesus was born, many Jewish people were desperately waiting for a Messiah, a mighty king from David’s family line who would come with God’s power and defeat their enemies, especially those who were occupying their land. And when you hear their story, you can understand why they felt this way.

Think about this: for 523 years, starting from 586 BC to 63 BC, the Jewish people lived under foreign rule. First came the Babylonians, then the Persians, followed by the Hellenistic Empire, and finally Rome. But that wasn’t the end of it. Even after Roman rule, they continued to face foreign domination – the Byzantines, Islamic Caliphates, Crusaders, Mamluks, and the Ottoman Empire, right up until the British Mandate that finally led to modern Israel in 1948. That’s a really long time to wait for freedom!

Before and during these difficult times, God’s prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah had already seen these events coming, and they offered hope for Israel’s future. Isaiah was prophesying before the Babylonians took over, while Jeremiah was there during Judah’s decline and the Babylonian invasion. Both of them shared visions of a future king, someone from David’s line, who would rise up to free Israel. You can find these promises scattered throughout the Bible – in Psalms, Jeremiah, and especially in Daniel. There’s this powerful vision in Daniel 7:13-14 about a “Son of Man” receiving eternal power. All these writings painted a picture of a strong, conquering savior who would establish an everlasting kingdom, ruling with an iron rod.

But here’s where it gets interesting – prophets like Isaiah also showed us a completely different side of the Messiah. In Isaiah 53, for example, he talks about a suffering servant, someone who would carry others’ sins through humility and sacrifice.

Now, modern scholars have found a way to make sense of these two different pictures. They explain that first-century Jews were actually confused about the first and second comings of Christ. The Bible teaches that Jesus would first come as a suffering servant, and later return as a conquering king. And just to be thorough – though this isn’t the main point of our discussion – we Adventists also speak of a third coming, when Christ will bring the Holy City and its inhabitants to the new earth after the 1,000-year period.

I want to be clear here. I do have reservations about some parts of Adventist eschatology. But I’m not trying to challenge or question our traditional Adventist interpretations of Daniel and Revelation. I’m exploring something completely different. 

Sometimes I find myself wondering: why did the Jews, even with all these scriptures, symbols, and prophetic warnings at their fingertips, still end up rejecting Jesus when He first came? What can their experience teach us as we wait for His return? Like these Jews, Adventists also have so many prophetic writings describing the end-time events at their fingertips. Could it be possible that even with all the preparation, one could be wrong about the second coming of Christ just like the Jews that got it wrong when Christ came first? 

When we look at Jesus’ life, there’s no getting around the fact that He turned Jewish expectations completely upside down. Instead of leading a rebellion against Rome, He showed love even to His oppressors. His teachings, especially in the Sermon on the Mount, were radical and honestly pretty hard to wrap your head around. Here’s what He said:

• “If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” (Matthew 5:39, NIV)
• “If anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well.” (Matthew 5:40, NIV)
• “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.” (Matthew 5:41, NIV)
• “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” (Luke 6:27–28, NIV)

These weren’t just challenging teachings back then – they still make us uncomfortable today!

Here’s something I’ve been wrestling with: Why did Jesus choose this approach? Why didn’t He use His divine power to unleash justice on Israel’s enemies, like we see in the Old Testament? Think about these examples:

• 2 Kings 19:35: “That night the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies!”
• Joshua 10:10-11: “The Lord threw them into confusion before Israel, so Joshua and the Israelites defeated them completely at Gibeon. Israel pursued them along the road going up to Beth Horon and cut them down all the way to Azekah and Makkedah. As they fled before Israel on the road down from Beth Horon to Azekah, the Lord hurled large hailstones down on them, and more of them died from the hail than were killed by the swords of the Israelites.”

Doesn’t this seem a bit puzzling? How could God act one way in the Old Testament and then seem so different in the New? Some people suggest that maybe the Father and Son are different, but Jesus Himself tells us in John 10:30 and John 5:19 that He and the Father are one, and He only does what the Father allows. Others might say that God changed. But then we have Malachi 3:6 where God clearly states, “I the Lord do not change.”

So what’s really going on here? Has God changed, or is it our understanding of Him that needs to grow? I don’t have all the answers, but these questions really make us think deeply about God’s character and how He reveals Himself throughout Scripture.

You know what I’ve noticed? If you look at most movies, TV shows, or books that come out these days, they almost always follow the same story: evil is defeated through violence. It usually goes something like this – there’s a happy, innocent family or group living peacefully. Then some bad person or group, driven by greed, shows up and disrupts everything through force and violence. The good people suffer and cry out for help. Finally, a hero emerges – usually someone who seems weak and outnumbered – who somehow manages to defeat evil through even greater violence. And that’s supposed to be justice.

But there’s a problem with these stories. When we label someone as “evil,” we often forget about the human cost – what about their family, their spouse, their young children, or the people who depend on them? We also tend to ignore any wrong things the “good” guys might do, assuming they’re completely innocent. Real life isn’t that simple. But these stories keep pushing the idea that righteous violence is the best way to overcome evil.

We see this type of reasoning whenever two countries are on the brink of war. Their leaders justify bombing innocent people by portraying the opposing country or group as evil. Once that label is applied, all moral constraints disappear.

Biblical stories often follow this pattern too except for a few characters in the Old Testament like Joseph and then Jesus. Jesus took this to another level. For instance, let me show you this. 

Jesus said in Luke 6:43-48: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.“

If you really sit with these words for a moment, you’ll notice something profound. Jesus is teaching us that God doesn’t see people in simple categories of good and evil, righteous and unrighteous. Instead, His love extends to everyone. According to Jesus, this kind of unconditional love – what we call Agape – is what it means to be perfect.

This makes me wonder: has our black-and-white thinking or binary thinking influenced how we expect God to act when He returns? Just like those first-century Jews expected a conquering Messiah who would destroy evil with divine violence, are we now expecting the same thing at His second or third coming? Would a God whose very nature is perfect Agape love find satisfaction in destroying those we label as evil? Remember, Jesus Himself said in Mark 10:18, “Why do you call me good? No one is good—except God alone.”

Mahatma Gandhi once made a powerful observation: “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”

Now, I want to be realistic here. I’m not trying to be idealistic or naive. Evil is very real in our world, and people do terrible things. Just look at local TV news broadcasts – you’ll find stories that make your stomach turn: a preacher molesting his granddaughter, a teacher exploiting students, a contractor cheating an elderly woman, a young hacker stealing a poor couple’s life savings for fun, a migrant young women repeatedly taken advantage by the traffickers? These aren’t far-fetched scenarios; they’re painful realities that show us the darkness in human hearts.

But if we’re really honest with ourselves, we have to admit something uncomfortable: under the right circumstances, any of us could be capable of similar or even worse actions. This sobering truth should make us think twice about how quickly we label others as “evil” and how we expect God to deal with them. If even the best among us has this potential for darkness, how can we demand that a God of perfect love respond with violence and destruction?

So how do we make sense of God being both merciful and just? How can Jesus bring justice when He returns? Honestly, I don’t know. But here’s a perspective I’ve been exploring. I must admit that I haven’t fully worked it out yet. My perspective is that what if God’s justice isn’t about punishment or destruction at all, but about restoration and healing?

This started with what Paul writes in Romans 12:21: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.“

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. captured this idea beautifully when he said: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

But what does this mean for Christ’s return?

 Let’s look at what Jesus said in John 3:16-21: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.“

In this passage, light represents God’s presence and love, while darkness represents their absence. When someone steps into the light – accepting God’s presence through Jesus – they receive eternal life and are transformed into good. If someone rejects the light, they’re rejecting God’s presence, and that rejection leads to perishing. Notice something important here: God isn’t actively condemning them – their own choice is.

Turns out this is what the Orthodox church teaches too. They say that evil is the absence of divine grace and love. Next, C.S. Lewis had a similar view – he didn’t see hell as a place of active punishment, but as a state where people choose to separate themselves from God’s love, leading to spiritual decay. 

He wrote in “The Great Divorce”:

“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’” (pp. 66–67)

He also makes this powerful observation in “The Problem of Pain”:

“I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful rebels to the end; that the gates of hell are locked on the inside.” (p. 12)

If evil is really the absence of God’s Agape love, then maybe God’s justice is about restoring that Agape love to anyone willing to receive it, rather than destroying the evil-doer. Could it be that God’s ultimate justice is about overcoming evil with love, not greater violence?

This brings us to the second coming of Christ. We often picture it as a violent event, but what if we understood it as the ultimate revelation of Divine love? There’s this fascinating scene in Revelation 5 where John sees a vision of God holding a scroll with writing on both sides, sealed with seven seals. An angel calls out, “Who is worthy to open the scroll?” At first, it seemed, that no one in heaven or earth could open it, and John weeps. But then one of the elders comforts him, saying, “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.“

Now, John expects to see a Triumphant Lion – but what does he actually see? A Lamb that looks like it had been slain, with seven horns, seven eyes, and seven spirits. This Lamb takes the scroll and opens it. What if we’re like John? What if we’re all looking for the Lion of Judah, a powerful Davidic king wielding Divine violence, but instead, what we’ll encounter is a slain Lamb demonstrating boundless love?

Just as Jesus surprised everyone during His first coming, maybe His return won’t be about conquest at all, but about the transformative power of sacrificial love.

So here’s the question we need to ask ourselves: if God’s justice is really about restoration rather than destruction, how should that change our expectations about Christ’s return? And even more importantly, how should it change the way we deal with evil in our world today?

C-J: I agree with you completely. I’ve had those questions throughout my walk with God, and the only answer— not logical, but spiritual— is grace. It’s transformational, and it’s always supposed to be about grace.

Anonymous: Kiran got it exactly right. He should be published—everyone should hear it! This is the way. Nothing can overcome evil but love. It’s just beautiful. I’m amazed and overwhelmed.

Donald: I think that’s what’s so challenging about what you shared this morning, Kiran. How could we possibly see it from another perspective? It’s like when we were kids, and our parents taught us that this is blue, this is yellow, and this is red—that’s just the way we learned. So, from my perspective, and probably what you’re feeling, it doesn’t align with our faith traditions. And because it doesn’t align, we question it. It’s radical. From my point of view, if we approached faith from this perspective, what would be left of the church we value so highly? Could we remain a highly organized church, or would this lead to its demise, requiring something new to grow in its place? To me, it’s so radical—yet it really isn’t. But is it diametrically opposed to what we’ve come to understand as Seventh-day Adventists?

C-J: I think the way Kiran describes it actually brings liberation. People are eager to take off that heavy coat and embrace grace—because but for the grace of God, there go I. The only thing that keeps me from being stubborn and stiff-necked is the Holy Spirit dwelling within me. Am I saying, Thy will be done, because it’s who I am? When I’m separated from God, I see things through my own eyes. But when I come to God in confusion, He brings light, and I find peace. So it makes perfect sense. Why would any church or belief system want to be in bondage? I came to set you free. And how does that happen? Through love. When you are loved, you are kind, you create harmony, and you align with a much greater plan.

Donald: But when I’ve suggested this over the last couple of weeks, Don has responded by saying, You can hold two things at the same time. Are these two different things, or is this one new thing?

C-J: I think it’s a timeline. Like you said, when we’re children, we believe one way. As we mature, we understand more deeply. Some people only reach a certain place, but I believe God’s grace is sufficient for them as well. God says that allwould come—and I believe that.

Don: I wonder if Kiran has been watching too many Bollywood films. 🙂 The struggle between good and evil is well-documented in them, and they always end with violence overcoming evil. But I think Donald is right—it is possible to hold two things that seem diametrically opposed. One of the strengths of Adventism, if I can say so myself, is that we claim to have no creed, which means we are open to new light and new viewpoints. Now, whether we actually have a mechanism to handle and vet new ideas is another discussion, but at least in theory, we are a people with open minds. Our foundation was built on a failed idea—the belief that Jesus was coming in 1844. The fact that we were founded on a faulty premise, that we claim to have no creed but the Bible, and that we profess to be open to new light should make us, of all people, the most willing to reconsider our viewpoints.

As for why the Jews did not recognize the Messiah, I believe they failed to see Jesus as the Messiah because they didn’t understand grace. And maybe we have the same problem—not just as a church, but as Christians. If we don’t understand grace, we don’t fully grasp God’s love and goodness. The more we understand grace and explore it biblically, the more opportunities we have for new insights, new enlightenment, and the kind of freedom from destruction that you so eloquently described.

David: I’m going to take the heat off Kiran by being even more heretical than he might think he is—by suggesting that much of the violence we see may, in part, be influenced by the Bible itself. If we struggle to see grace, could it be because it’s sometimes overshadowed by the many stories of violence in the Bible? Until Jesus comes along, bringing a message of peace and agape love, much of what we read involves conflict. Yet we keep returning to the violent narratives in the Old Testament and Revelation.

The Bible is accepted as the Word of God. But can words of violence truly be the words of God? I suppose I can’t get more heretical than that, and I apologize if this unsettles anyone. Personally, I’ve often thought about distilling the Bible down to what Jesus said and taught, because to me, that is the essence of the Word of God—without violence. There is no place for violence in Jesus’ world.

And one more thought: I’m no historian, but from what little I know, one of the most profound examples of agape love on a societal level was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. Instead of resorting to vengeance or punishment for the horrors of apartheid, they sought to uncover the truth, believing in the goodness of all people and recognizing our shared capacity for wrongdoing. We need to shift our focus away from sin and violence and toward love.

Carolyn: I still struggle with the idea of God commanding the destruction of entire peoples. Kiran, you’ve covered so much, and I appreciate it—I really do—but I can’t help but wonder: When we talk about agape love, how do we reconcile that with the kind of judgment we see in the Old Testament? It’s like Hiroshima—judgment that wiped everything out. I have a hard time holding both ideas together, though I’m trying.

Anonymous: I think those who don’t see grace in the Old Testament may not have looked closely enough. Consider Abraham interceding for Sodom and Gomorrah, pleading with God to spare the cities if even a handful of righteous people could be found. God was willing to relent. That’s grace. Or Noah—Noah found grace in God’s eyes, and his family was saved. There are so many examples. Grace is there, even if it’s sometimes harder to see.

David: I hear that, but I struggle with how often violence surrounds those moments of grace. In the story of Noah, for example, grace is extended to a few while countless others perish in the flood. That kind of destruction doesn’t feel like an act of grace to me—it doesn’t feel like an act of God.

Anonymous: But that destruction wasn’t God’s desire—it was the result of human choices. God is love. It grieves Him to see people perish. Every life is precious in His eyes.

David: But according to the Bible, God caused the flood.

Anonymous: Yes, but people had 120 years of warnings from Noah. He told them, Get into the ark—if you don’t, you’ll perish. They chose not to believe. The Bible itself says, Light came into the world, but people loved darkness more than light. That was the judgment—they brought it upon themselves.

David: But look at South Africa at the end of apartheid. There could have been a wave of Nuremberg-style trials, where those responsible for terrible atrocities were sentenced and punished. But instead of bringing a flood of retribution, they chose to bring agape love. They said, Let’s talk about this. Let’s acknowledge the truth. Let’s see how we can move forward together.

During apartheid, unspeakable injustices were committed against black South Africans. Many expected there would be a bloodbath when the country gained independence—that those responsible would face their due punishment. But it didn’t happen that way. Nelson Mandela and other leaders said, No, that’s not the way. They established the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, where perpetrators voluntarily testified, acknowledged their actions, and spoke with victims. It was a remarkable act of grace. That’s the way.

Anonymous: The light came into that part of the world. Without Mandela’s leadership, bloodshed would have continued. When people embrace the light, everything changes.

Kiran: In the parable of the prodigal son, the son made his choice—he left his father and walked away. In a sense, he sealed his own fate, shutting the door from the inside. The father could have moved on, but he didn’t. And that’s what baffles me. I just don’t understand how God behaves. The son made his choice, yet when he comes back, the father welcomes him with open arms. It’s hard to grasp how God’s justice works—why didn’t the prodigal son simply face the consequences of his choices? I don’t know.

Donald: In a way, what we’re discussing is that we often bring things upon ourselves. Some might say, You made your bed, now lie in it. But what Kiran has presented this morning challenges that mindset—it suggests that’s not how it actually works. And that’s difficult for us to understand.

Sharon: What gives me peace in all of this—the tension, the seeming contradictions—is the belief that we don’t yet have the full picture. And maybe we don’t need to. What we do know is that the character of God does not change. Trying to fully understand who God is and how He works is an immense challenge, one we’ll have all eternity to explore.

For me, the clearest image of God’s love is in grace. As Kiran so beautifully pointed out, the Lamb comes for me. The Lamb died for me. Yesterday, for Valentine’s Day—since my Valentine is no longer with me—I turned to 1 Corinthians 13. What stood out was the reminder: Now we see through a glass darkly… now we know only in part, but then we shall know fully, even as we are fully known.

That not knowing—that incompleteness—shouldn’t unsettle us. We’ve already seen the flawless character of love revealed through redemption and grace. Even if we don’t fully understand it now, we can rest in the certainty of Jesus’ love. If we weren’t of infinite value, He never would have come for us. That truth—that Gospel of love—is what sustains me each day as I walk in partnership with Him.

Carolyn: I agree with Kiran, but I struggle with living out this love that has been given to me. I deeply cherish what God and Jesus have done for me, but when I try to share the good news, this other question always arises. No matter how lovingly I say it, people ask: If God is so loving, then why…? And I don’t always know how to answer.

I know it’s my own inadequacies—I’m not blaming anyone. Kiran, I wish I had your background. Sharon, I wish I had yours. But I know that I can’t share something with others unless I truly believe it myself. I need to have my own story to tell.

Sharon: I completely agree. Our story—the one we share with others—comes from our daily walk with Christ. It’s through seeking Him in Scripture that we come to know His character as it truly is. And ultimately, our testimony is about freedom—the freedom we find when we truly understand that, in Christ, we are no longer under the penalty of the law.

Reinhard: Regarding the acts of God in the Old Testament, many outside the Judeo-Christian tradition criticize Him as cruel, saying He simply kills people. Even believers struggle with this. But if we look closely, we see a pattern.

Take Noah’s time, for example. As someone mentioned earlier, Noah didn’t preach conversion—God had already decided to bring the flood because of humanity’s wickedness. The Bible even says God regretted creating humankind. Throughout the Old Testament, we see God acting to preserve His creation according to His will. The flood may have taken millions of lives—perhaps between 10 and 100 million. Later, during Israel’s rebellion under Korah and Dathan, God struck down 14,000. When David took a census, 70,000 Israelites perished. And it wasn’t only Israel’s enemies who faced judgment—when God destroyed 800,000 in battle, many were Israelites.

But why did God intervene so directly? Because He was preserving a people—a community meant to follow His will and uphold His commandments. He wanted to make the earth right before His eyes. Even when He commanded the destruction of entire nations, including children, it was to maintain a people who would remain faithful to Him. That’s why He gave the commandments at Sinai, leading all the way to the coming of Jesus, who ultimately revealed the true nature of God by dwelling among humanity.

Yet, despite everything, the Israelites often rebelled, worshiping idols and breaking God’s laws. Over time, however, human understanding of God’s will matured. The violence of the Old Testament became less necessary as people increasingly understood God’s moral expectations. Today, we don’t see the same kind of direct divine intervention as in ancient times. Humanity has changed—our moral understanding has evolved, and more people recognize God’s ways.

One key difference between the Old and New Testaments is the way God’s message is proclaimed. In the Old Testament, the coming of the Messiah was only revealed to a select few, like shepherds and the Magi. But in the New Testament, the Second Coming is announced openly and universally. Jesus Himself described it in Matthew 24, comparing it to the speed of light. Light travels at 186,000 miles per second—circling the earth more than seven times in a single second. That’s how immediate and visible the Second Coming will be. Unlike in the Old Testament, where only certain people knew of God’s plans, in the end times, everyone will see.

As for the Antichrist, I believe there are two groups of people who fit this description. First, there are atheists who completely reject God. Second, there are those who acknowledge God but still choose to oppose Him. Whether the Antichrist arises as a specific group, an ideology, or something else, we don’t know for sure. But already, we see people denying God, which could be a sign of what’s to come.

Ultimately, there are still mysteries about God’s actions that we may not fully understand. But His goal has always been to bring His creation into alignment with His will—to shape a world where righteousness prevails over wickedness. Today, billions of people—1.4 billion Catholics, nearly 1 billion Protestants, and many others—follow God’s teachings. While there is still evil in the world, we no longer see large-scale divine acts of judgment like those in the Old Testament. That alone may be evidence that God’s plan is working and that He desires for humanity to be saved by His grace.

Michael: I’m not sure. It feels like there’s a lot of struggle here, but I don’t see why. Maybe there will be destruction, and maybe these verses are true—but perhaps the destruction is meant for evil itself, not for people. God’s wrath is real, but it’s directed at evil, not at us.

David: I agree with that. But in this country, many right-wing so-called “Christians” support Israeli violence in Gaza, citing the Old Testament and the Book of Revelation as justification. I haven’t read all of the Old Testament, and I don’t intend to, but I have read all of the Gospels. I believe I understand Jesus to some extent, and I know He would never, never condone the kind of violence we’re seeing in the Middle East today.

Michael: But do we blame the Bible, or do we blame people who give foolish interpretations?

David: It’s not really about blame—it’s about seeking a better solution. Jesus has been pointing us toward that better solution for 2,000 years. And even before that, I believe He was working inside people’s hearts. Deep down, we knowwhat the right thing to do is. When we see something like a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, we instinctively recognize it as the answer. That’s exactly what’s needed in the Middle East—but it’s not what we’re getting.

Michael: It’s unfortunate, but we need leaders—on both the Israeli and Palestinian sides—who are willing to do what was done in South Africa. Right now, I don’t think we have that kind of leadership on either side. It’s not just Israel—it’s also the Palestinian side that lacks that type of figure.

Carolyn: I’ve always wrestled with John 3:16—God sent not His Son to condemn the world… We talk so much about love, but we rarely focus on the fact that God’s way is not to condemn. I struggle with this. Judgment and condemnation seem intertwined, but I don’t see the connection—or maybe I’m just blind to it. Maybe I need the scales to fall from my eyes.

C-J: My brother once told me he could never figure out the meaning of life, and I heard my father’s echo in his words. The truth is, life is about our relationship with God and our relationship with His creation. When we lose sight of that responsibility, bad things happen.

People justify their actions by saying, If they hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have responded that way. There’s always a reason, always an excuse. But God’s position is simple: extend grace. Do what David said—Come to the table. Acknowledge what you’ve done, be forgiven, start fresh, and don’t repeat your mistakes. Be mindful of the harm you’ve caused and work to create something better.

That takes maturity. It takes sacrifice. It requires putting our egos aside when someone frustrates or offends us and letting God handle it. And honestly? I struggle with that. I really do. When someone is being selfish, it seems so obvious to me, and I just want to call it out. But God keeps things simple, while humanity insists on making everything complex, thinking it makes us smarter or better.

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