“Here is my servant…who will proclaim justice to humanity…

until he brings justice to victory.”

Matthew 12:18-20

 

“I have not come to bring peace but a sword.”

Matthew 10:34

 

 

 

            As the U.S. presidential election of 2024 targets its conclusion in November, there are various versions of good news being propagated.  Most of these versions claim to be the truth, and thus its proponents assume to bring hope in proclaiming its good news.  These political gymnastics parallel proclaiming the good news of the gospel and the claims and assumptions that Christians make in their proclamation.

            When Jesus declared without equivocation that “I have not come to bring peace but a sword” (Mt 10:34), he revealed the integral news composing his gospel.  On the one hand, some Christians will use “a sword” to justify proclaiming news that further polarizes the political climate.  On the other hand, many Christians will ignore the essential significance of “a sword” in their proclamation of the gospel; they just simply assume that the gospel is only about good news.

            At the juncture of the Word “became flesh and lived among us” (Jn 1:14), there was a man who had waited to see the gospel before he died.  When Simeon saw the child Jesus, he proclaimed without revision the integral news of Jesus’ gospel—which amazed Joseph and Mary to hear (Lk 2:25-33).  Most notable in Simeon’s proclamation was the news signifying Jesus’ function: “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in the surrounding context and to be a sign that…will pierce your own soul too” (2:34-35).

            The gospel Simeon anticipated was not composed by the influential optimism voiced in his surrounding context.  In contrast to a biased optimism reverberating hope, the gospel anticipated by Simeon was constituted by both the good news and the bad news to be voiced by Jesus.  Simeon waited for this whole gospel to be revealed, not with a biased optimism of humanity but with the reality of its human condition, which Jesus’ sword will penetrate to the heart of by resonating his sounds of protest.

            Christians hereafter need to listen to Simeon’s frequency for the gospel in order to claim Jesus’ whole gospel, so that the gospel they proclaim resonates with nothing less and no substitutes.

 

 

Reverberating Optimism and Performative Sounds

 

 

            It should be apparent today that what is considered good news has a range of interpretations.  These perceptions form biases about reporting what is good news or bad news.  Underlying the most common perception of good news is the bias of optimism, which interprets situations and circumstances accordingly, whether true or not.  Based on this bias, any news that counters this good news would be labelled bad news.  In other words, only what is considered optimistic would reverberate as good.  Thus, Simeon’s frequency for the gospel wouldn’t reverberate but fall flat in the ears of the optimistic.

            Reverberating optimism was problematic for Jesus, notably with what Peter claimed and proclaimed.  For example, when Jesus proclaimed the bad news necessary for the gospel, Peter proclaimed “This shall never happen to you” (Mt 16:21-22, NIV); and when Jesus enacted what Peter considered dissonant for the gospel, he rebutted “You shall never wash my feet” (Jn 13:8, NIV).  Peter’s bias of what was good news extended into the early church when he denied Jesus’ request: “By no means, Lord, for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean” (Acts 10:13-14), the biased distinctions of which countered the inclusive nature of the gospel that made no distinctions between persons (cf. Acts 15:9).  At that stage, the gospel for Peter often reverberated with a biased optimism, which then shaped his practice of the gospel with performative sounds out of tune with Jesus’ gospel—as Paul protested to his face to hold him accountable for the whole gospel (Gal 2:11-13).

            Like Peter, any biased optimism composing good news always has difficulty facing bad news, and thus would be strained or stressed to associate the good news of the gospel with the bad news, much less consider them integral.  Since the bad news of humanity’s human condition is inescapable, any good news for humanity must unavoidably address its bad news.  Failure to do so proclaims the gospel with a false optimism under the assumption that anyone who claims its good news will simply quiet the sounds of their bad news.

            Falling into a false optimism is a subtle process that is not discernable apart from the bad news.  Underlying this process is the reduction of persons and relationships to the function of outer in, which involves the dynamics of a comparative process measuring them on a hierarchy of more or less, better or worse, good or bad.   Human life becomes a performance of what one can do, accomplish and possess, whereby humanity is stratified in an unequal, inequitable condition.  This performative practice preoccupied the early disciples, who were always assessing “who was the greatest” among them (Mk 9:34; Lk      9:46; cf. Mt 18:1).  Their performative sounds should not be surprising, because its diverse sounds become the norm for any part of humanity that doesn’t deal with its human condition.

            Rather than changing the human condition from inner out, performative sounds start to reverberate from outer in to occupy the mind with optimism.  Consequently, the human condition is not addressed more deeply to get to its heart, thereby leaving the inequities of human life unchanged.  The gospel claimed by many has been relegated to reverberating optimism, who then proclaim that gospel to the tune of performative sounds.

            Jesus enforces a sword to shred false optimism disguised with peace in order to penetrate to the heart of the human condition and “proclaim justice to humanity” (Mt 12: 18).  By proclaiming justice, Jesus did not reverberate in optimism, but rather he resolutely overturned humanity’s condition by protesting its bad news so that the good news could resonate in the hearts of those claiming his gospel of justice.  And his sounds of protest should never be mistaken for performative sounds.

 

 

The Arc of Justice

 

 

            Who or what defines justice will determine the trajectory that justice takes.  The current U.S. Supreme Court’s controversial decisions have projected justice on a trajectory that has created either optimism or pessimism.  This unintended effect may also seem apparent in the justice proclaimed by Jesus.  One wouldn’t think that the gospel proclaimed by Jesus would not purposely create pessimism.  Yet, that would assume his gospel composed only good news even while proclaiming justice.

            The existential reality of justice is that its trajectories are either competing or in conflict.  In a democracy, justice would be expected to have competing trajectories.  That would be the ideal of democracy, which the U.S.’s democratic structure short-circuited with conflicts evolving from its false optimism.  Justice unwinds in conflict trajectories when justice struggles to exist at all.  For example, U.S. policy for immigrants (notably those seeking asylum) has struggled to give them justice because the U.S. population is in conflict about what would be justice.

            Going back to Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman, his strategic shift revealed to her the trajectory of justice constituting the whole of God’s response in the gospel.  His trajectory of justice didn’t compete with others’ trajectories, including the disciples’, but was in conflict with them because he dealt with the bad news to change her human condition.  Obviously, the disciples’ trajectory of justice would not have brought justice to even address the bad news, much less deal with it directly, thereby keeping her in her human condition even if she happened to claim the good news proclaimed by them.

             The existential reality of the human condition innately composes its bad news, from which humanity needs to be redeemed in order to be reconciled with the good news.  This redemptive reconciling process necessitates the justice that overlooks none of the bad news, so that the good news doesn’t fall into any false optimism of reconciliation.  The justice proclaimed by Jesus is in conflict with anything less and any substitutes for its righteous nature.

            The gospel Jesus enacted with justice encompasses an arc that integrates three dimensions: (1) fully encompasses the past, (2) whole-ly embraces the present, and (3) completely encircles the future. The 1^st dimension of his gospel encompasses both creation and the fall into reductionism. The 2^nd dimension embraces both human life in the qualitative image and relational likeness of the Trinity, and how the human condition has evolved (or devolved) from the beginning; and the 3^rd dimension encircles the whole relational outcome of his gospel in completion. All three dimensions are integrated for the whole 3-D picture of his gospel. Therefore, omitting any dimension or reducing any of them no longer distinguishes Jesus’ whole gospel but determines a partial (flat or distorted) or virtual (realistic but not real) portrayal of a gospel shaped by human terms and bias—the tension and conflict between his gospel and our gospel.

            In the whole 3-D picture of the gospel enacted by Jesus, the arc of justice traverses the human condition to bring its bad news into the light—that is, into direct intersection with the light embodied by the Word for humanity to receive his gospel.  However, in spite of the arc of justice making distinct the human condition by the Light, many have failed to recognize the gravity of the bad news weighing down their daily life, and thus either have not claimed his whole gospel or merely have claimed portions of the good news without the bad news.  This has become a truncated result of presumed salvation that reduces his 3-D to a flat, distorted or virtual portrayal shaped by human terms and bias.  In such a process, which short circuits the arc of justice, many today can be found who profess to claim the gospel.

            At this critical juncture, it is essential to understand the dynamics underlying his 3-D gospel.  His 3-D gospel is necessary to identify, respond to and embrace the whole person created also in 3-D based on the image and likeness of the Trinity: (1) the person as an individual subject (not individualism), (2) the person in collective/corporate union with other persons, and (3) the life-order of these persons in relationship together. Jesus embodies and enacts the relational response to the 3-D person of human life with his 3-D gospel in order to transform persons and relationships for the whole relational outcome of the new creation of persons and relationships in God’s kingdom-family. Anything less and any substitutes do not, will not, and cannot portray the whole 3-D picture of his gospel; and the outcome from any such gospel will be measured accordingly—nothing more.

            Therefore, the arc of justice proclaimed by Jesus encompasses by necessity the intrinsic anthropology integrated with the nature of sin that constitutes humanity in its human condition.  Thus, Jesus proclaims the justice that integrally both gets to the heart of persons constituting humanity and deals with the reduction, fragmentation and brokenness of those persons and their relationships.  Without this anthropology and view of sin, the arc of justice is flattened, distorted or short circuited, whereby humanity continues to recycle in the bad news of its condition. 

            Many consider the existing human condition to be a result of the evolution of human life. This result can be considered natural and to be taken in stride, or as a condition needing further human adaptation. Either conclusion has only exasperated the condition and amplified the human desire to fill a void, to fulfill an insatiable need. While most Christians don’t subscribe to this account of the human condition, they live everyday with similar desires and need. This raises another basic question that all of us need to face:

 

Where do we live? That is, do we live in the created world of God or the evolving world of human development and so-called progress?

 

            Part of answering this question involves knowing what the human condition is and understanding how this condition subtly envelops our life and infects us to determine our condition. The everyday reality of human life is that its unavoidable condition is intractable, and that this condition by its nature disables human persons from being whole and functioning in wholeness. If this indeed is the reality of our condition, what is at the heart of this condition and how does it pivotally affect the heart of human life?

            When we examine the dynamic unfolded in the primordial garden much deeper, what emerges gets into the heart of the human condition (Gen 3:1-13). Satan challenged the relational words of Subject God by raising what appeared as a reasonable question: “Did God say…?” His purpose was neither to clarify nor correct what God commanded, but rather to transpose God’s words, redefine their meaning, and to construct a subtle alternative with appealing information. The underlying outcome in his purpose was to distance or detach said subjects as inner-out persons from their reciprocal relational involvement with Subject God, and thereby relegate these persons to objects now redefined subtly from outer in. How so?

            Any discussion of the narrative of this encounter in the primordial garden must take place in the full narrative of the relational context and process of creation. To understand the depth of what transpired in this encounter and its consequence requires keeping in clear focus the relational outcome of the Subject’s creation in relational language and terms: whole persons, from inner out, distinguished in ontology and function by the Subject’s image and likeness, involved whole-ly as subjects in the primacy of reciprocal relationship together both with Subject God and with each other. Who and what emerged from this relational outcome must be in juxtaposition throughout this encounter in order to understand its significance and get to the heart of its consequence.

            By asking “Did God say that?” Satan introduces the inaugural persons (and us today) to a compelling alternative for their lives. Along with transposing Subject God’s relational language to referential language, Satan interjects alternative terms to the relational terms already communicated definitively by the Subject. The relational terms for the primacy of reciprocal relationship are unequivocal, as those persons knew (Gen 3:2-3). What is transpiring, however, goes deeper than the terms for relationship, which we need to understand beyond the mere issue of disobedience commonly ascribed to those persons as their sin.

            When God said, “Function by my relational terms, or you shall die” (Gen 2:16-17), as noted about the commandments earlier, it is crucial to examine how we see and think about death. Here again, we have to keep this pivotal encounter in the relational context and process that already constituted whole persons and relationships in wholeness. Satan counters God’s words with “you will not die”—a relative proposal, whose significance commonly eludes most Christians (even church leaders and scholars) because of how we see and think about death. In this narrative, did the inaugural persons die after they partook? No, that is, unless you see and think about dying and death in the full context and process of creation.

            In fact, Satan proposes in his alternative that persons will see and think with the perspicacity of God, going beyond merely being in the image of God, and further acquiring the revered resource of “knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:4-5). How appealing is this resource for those seeking justice and working for peace? It appealed to the inaugural persons also, since it “was to be desired to make one wise” (3:6), a better person, one better able to serve God—or so the thinking goes. Consider becoming such a person. Would you consider that person disobedient, much less a person who dies?

            What evolves in this encounter is the ongoing dynamic at the heart of the human condition. God certainly wants us to be wise, to know good and evil, and to flourish to the full capacity of our person—and obviously not to die. Yet, that is not what is offered in Satan’s proposal. Who and what were these inaugural persons already from creation? As whole persons, what more could they be than those subjects? And what could they gain as persons from inner out by consuming an outer-in alternative for an inner-out resource? In the relational language of what solely is primary, nothing. In the referential language of what is at best secondary, a qualified something; and it is this thing that has subtly appealed to those in the primary and seduced them into anything less and any substitutes. This pervasive influence needs to be exposed. 

            The consequence from this prevailing dynamic only has significance as it collides with the heart of creation. First, Subject God is reduced to Object, shaped by human terms regulating (not denying) who, what and how God is. Next, the whole human person from inner out (as in Gen 2:25) is reduced to outer in (as in 3:7), typically functioning merely as an object shaped by surrounding influences and alternatives. Then, these reduced persons no longer function whole-ly in their primacy of relationship together, but they resort to and become preoccupied in secondary matters that reduce their presence and involvement in relationships down to common fragmentary ways (as in 3:7-10). This often subtle dynamic has only this common consequence:

 

The reduction of creation at the heart of human life, which compromises the essential integrity of the whole person and fragments the wholeness of persons in their primacy of relationship together.

 

            What we need to understand about the inaugural persons is the alternative they fell for by choice and thus fell into as a consequence. Their sin in the garden was solely and nothing less than the sin of reductionism, which set in motion the human condition. Our view of sin has to go beyond merely disobedience and encompass sin as reductionism, and nothing less in our theology and practice. Otherwise we have a weak view of sin—a view that lacks the scope of injustice because it lacks understanding justice, a view that doesn’t serve for the depth of peace because it lacks wholeness. Reductionism is at the heart, the fragmentary heart of the human condition. The human condition that emerged from the primordial garden indeed composes sin, but only the sin of reductionism. A weaker view of sin neither gets to the fragmentary heart of the human condition nor gets right our human condition and our own sin, even as we seek justice and work for peace.

            In all the ways noted above, with all their subsequent refinements and evolving progress, reductionism has composed all persons, peoples, tribes and nations with the human condition lacking the justice and without the peace created for human life by the Subject. Reductionism quantifies persons (e.g. by the quantity of their knowledge of “good and evil”) by transposing their inner-out qualitative image of God to quantitative measures from outer in (e.g. having resources like God), and thus reductionism object-ifies the integrity of persons as subjects and fragments their wholeness (both individually and collectively).

            The evolving reality of reductionism disables the whole person by quantifying their essential identity, for example, with physical characteristics/distinctions from outer in (as with color, sex, appearance), with the development of their intellect by knowledge and information (as in idolizing education), or simply with the extent of their abilities and resources (as the primary source defining human identity and determining human function). Quantifying the person based on such measures basically object-ifies the person created as subject by the Subject; and this reduction disables the person by fragmenting the whole person into variable parts of who, what and how the person should be in the qualitative image and relational likeness of the Subject.

            This quantification and object-ification of persons happens in multiple ways in human life and its order, and each reduction generates a lack of justice. When the integrity essential to persons is compromised and their wholeness together fragmented, there is no justice and peace in which all of human life was created by the Subject. And no matter how many variable parts of this fragmentation can claim to make one a better person, wiser, and even better able to serve others and contribute to humanity, the sum of those parts does not, will not and cannot add up to enable the person to be whole and persons together to live in wholeness. The synergy of life cannot emerge from reductionism but only from creation by the Subject. Therefore, the reality that we need to embrace at its heart is unmistakable:

 

Reductionism and wholeness are incompatible, an object and a subject are incongruent; and any effort to conflate the latter with the former will disable the latter and render it without its essential significance.

 

            When we don’t understand sin as reductionism, we don’t get to the fragmentary heart of the human condition, our human condition. How we see and think in this condition lacks justice and disables us from getting right what is wrong, unfair, and/or unjust in everyday life. How we live in this condition every day lacks peace, even in the absence of conflict, because our wholeness is fragmented. And the sad fact compounding this existing reality is that we commonly fail to realize this dynamic of reductionism in our theology and practice.

            In whatever context, form or operation the dynamic of reductionism is found, that condition lacks justice whether we call it injustice or not. Inseparably, that condition lacks peace whether there is apparent conflict or not, and whether or not we call it wrong, unfair or unjust. In that condition, fragmentation in one way or another takes place as the prevailing consequence that determines the fragmentary heart of the human condition. Given the breadth and depth of what pervades human life today and prevails in its human order, the unavoidable reality facing us is that the human condition is inescapable, and that its bad news needs to be protested ongoingly.

            When the heart of the human condition (and our condition) is encompassed by the arc of justice proclaimed by Jesus, justice will be served with nothing less and no substitutes and thereby brought to victory.  Anything less and any substitutes will not compete with his trajectory of justice but will always be in conflict with it.  Those who claim to have the gospel and serve as witnesses to it are accountable for what and who they proclaim.

 

 

Resonating the Sounds of Protest

 

 

            Protests are heard and seen at different levels.  The intensity of these protests usually is the determining factor for the effect of a protest.  When the sound of a protest reverberates, more attention is typically brought to the issue protested; or at least more notice is given to the reverberating protestors.  The sound of Jesus’ gospel protest, however, are not determined by their reverberation.

            Certainly, when Jesus cleaned out the temple, his protest reverberated in the minds of those present, observing or simply recounting his action.  Yet, it was not that intensity that defined the significance of his protest and determined its effect.  By comparison (not contrast), in his protest with the Samaritan woman, Jesus was mild in tone and gentle in behavior but nevertheless no less effective than at the temple.  Why?  This brings out the depth of his protest that defines its intensity and determines its effect.

            Injustice should reverberate in the minds and consciousness of those in the surrounding context.  For many activists, reverberating protest is considered a viable means to achieve their goals of justice—an end which can even evolve to justify the use of most any intense means.  This process evolves further when the effect of protesting is inconsequential, whereby many protestors continue their engagement as an end in itself—perhaps as witnessed in prolonged protests on college campuses today.  After all, protesting injustice does provide those engaged an identity marker that they could be proud to assume in public life.  But, these persons should never presume to be “my witnesses of the sounds of protest enacting my proclamation of justice.”

            To clarify definitively and unequivocally, merely reverberating is insufficient protest for justice to penetrate to the heart of the human condition underlying any injustice.  Whenever justice stops short, the injustice will keep recycling; this is a frustrating and discouraging experience for protestors, which is an existential reality that should serve as a wake-up call that something is missing or not right.  This has been evident, for example, in the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, which for decades has had to address the recurring injustice of racial inequality.

            As witnessed in Jesus’ protest of the injustice suffered by the Samaritan woman, Jesus only proclaimed the justice necessary to redeem the heart of her human condition.  This was the effect he had on her because his protest didn’t merely reverberate in her mind but resonated to the depth of her heart.  That’s why the sounds of his protest penetrated to turn her life around. 

            For injustice to be turned around by justice necessitates by the nature of Jesus’ justice to be transformed and not just reformed.  Transformation distinguishes the inner out of persons from their outer in, which only unfolds at this depth for being first redeemed from the bad news.  Therefore, redemptive change from injustice is at the heart of the arc of justice embodied, enacted and proclaimed by Jesus.  Anything less and any substitutes don’t resonate in tune with the sounds of his gospel protest.  The early disciples had difficulty learning this arc and thus struggled in their trajectory of justice to resonate as “my witnesses”—no matter how much they reverberated, as witnessed in Peter’s discipleship.

            In the arc of justice, Jesus enacts God’s love for justice (Ps 33:5; Jer 9:24).  If God’s heart is vulnerably present and involved by love to proclaim justice, then God’s heart is equally stirred to action by his hate for injustice (Ps 5:5; 11:5; 45:6-7).  In other words, as God’s heart resonates in the love of justice, it integrally resonates in the lament of injustice.

 

 

The Lament of Jesus’ Gospel Protest

 

 

            Who would associate lament with the gospel, much less connect it integrally?  Perhaps pessimists who aren’t hopeful about the gospel becoming an existential reality.  Yet, lament is irreplaceable for anyone claiming and proclaiming the gospel.

            If God’s love resonates with you, then it is unavoidable for God’s hate and related feelings for injustice to constitute the lament of Jesus’ gospel protest.  We cannot be selective of God’s heart in our bias and not fragment his heart’s wholeness.  This was directly implied when Jesus shared his lament with Peter about whether Peter loved him (Jn 21:15-19).  No one can say that God’s love resonates with them without God’s love also resonating about what causes God to lament.

            The underlying issue is understanding the heartbeat of God that Jesus embodied.  The affects that Jesus experienced in his heart (not just his mind) are essential to his whole person. These affects are not merely about the dynamics of Jesus’ humanity.  His feelings are integral to the emotions of God, which ongoingly had been shared openly in Scripture for the sake of God’s people, and now are further and more deeply expressed distinctly by the heart of the embodied Word enacted vulnerably with his person.  God’s emotions are simply essential to distinguish God beyond merely as the Object of our beliefs.  When God’s emotions are overlooked, ignored or even discounted, God then is reduced from being the Subject whose overt ontology is vulnerably present and actively involved (as Subject) directly in relationship with us.  The complete profile of the whole of God doesn’t emerge and unfold whenever God is related to as Object, no matter how venerable the profile.  Therefore, what we proclaim in our witness is always insufficient for the who of the gospel enacting the whole of God’s heart.

            A significant introduction to the emotions of God is compiled by David Lamb, who rightfully outlines the scope of God’s emotions by giving equal attention to the negative emotions of God’s hatred, wrath and anger.[1]  Yet, the weight given to God’s harder feelings doesn’t imbalance God’s love, rather it keeps it from being distorted, for example, by idealizing or romanticizing it.  In contrast, most Christians usually tip the emotions scale in favor of God’s love, whereby the profile of God is distorted to fit a portrait framed by our biases and assumptions.  Nevertheless, the incarnation of the Word reveals the affective narrative that vulnerably discloses: (1) the heart of the whole of God, and (2) the heart of God’s image and likeness by which human persons are created and now transformed in the new creation—with nothing less and no substitutes (2 Cor 3:18; 5:17).

            The trajectory Jesus enacts for the arc of justice is further distinguished when Jesus intentionally focused his trajectory on a person who both participates in the injustice of that time even while being subjected to it (Mt 9:9-13).  Jesus connects with a tax collector named Levi (Matthew) sitting at the tax office, and he says to him “Follow me.”  So, leaving everything behind, Levi gets up and begins to follow him.  On the surface, Jesus’ call appears inconsistent with what would be expected for his disciples.  Yet, this is a key indicator that Jesus’ trajectory is deepening.  Since Levi is ostracized by the Jewish community, Jesus purposely involves himself in a grand banquet hosted by Levi at his house.  Many tax collectors and sinners are also eating with Jesus and his disciples.  Thus, Levi represents a key addition to his chosen disciples in this tactical shift, which equalizes them without the constraining inequities of their sociocultural distinctions. 

            Jesus’ inclusive declaration reveals the tactical depth of his trajectory, which he wants us to learn in order to follow him.  His trajectory is constituted not only by how inclusive his embrace of individuals is, but equally important is what underlies “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”  What he desires (thelo) involves not only willfully wanting this but also pressing on to enact it.  This means not only to engage individuals but also to address their collective contexts and infrastructure—which “sacrifice” implies about Jewish life.  To address the infrastructure of collectives, however, also necessitates addressing the full spectrum of the human condition for its redemptive change—nothing less and no substitutes, as Jesus’ trajectory enacts.  As our thelo enacts this together with him, we will understand his heart further, and thereby learn that his love goes beyond his warmth and tenderness to include feelings not commonly associated with love—enacting tough love, so to speak, to deal with the bad news of the human condition.

            Any tough love of God’s heart enacts his love of justice, which then constitutes his hard feelings about injustice as the basis for the lament of Jesus’ gospel protest.  The scope of the feelings in his heart, therefore, intrinsically encompass the integration of negative feelings with positive feelings.  The prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel witnessed most intensely to resonate the lament of God’s heart in protest about the human condition of God’s people.  Their witness was a precursor for the witnesses who will vulnerably enact the lament of Jesus’ gospel protest. 

            God’s heart of wholeness cannot proclaim the positive feelings of the good news without first sharing the negative feelings of the bad news in protest.  Without the lament of his gospel protest, his heart is obscured by any good news, and in spite of any reverberation, his gospel will not resonate at the heart level.

            Who then will proclaim the whole gospel by resonating the lament in his sounds of protest to help him “bring justice to victory as my witnesses”?