Discussion Questions

David Bercot argues that God both commanded Israel to wage war and yet punished Israel for trusting in armies or alliances; what does that combination suggest about God’s intentions for His people, and how does it affect the way Christians should read Old Testament wars? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If God told Israel to fight but also punished them for trusting in armies and alliances, what does that say about what God wanted for His people? How should that shape the way Christians read Old Testament war stories?

The lesson highlights Isaiah/Micah’s “swords into plowshares” prophecy and says early Christians believed it was fulfilled “right now” in the church rather than in a future millennium; what would it look like for your congregation to treat that prophecy as present reality rather than distant hope? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If “swords into plowshares” is meant to be true in the church right now, what would need to change in your congregation? What would people do differently if they treated it as a present reality?

Bercot compares war to Old Testament permissions like divorce and polygamy—practices “against His ultimate will” later forbidden; where do you feel resistance to treating war as belonging in that same category, and what would you need from Scripture to be convinced? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Bercot says war is like divorce or polygamy—allowed for a time but not God’s best plan. What makes it hard for you to put war in that same category, and what would you need to see in Scripture to be convinced?

The teacher points out there’s no New Testament story of a convert being told to leave the army, and explains historically why the issue didn’t arise until later; how persuasive do you find that explanation, and what does it imply about how the church should handle modern ethical issues not explicitly narrated in Acts? JumpstartAnother way to ask: How convincing is the idea that Acts doesn’t mention converts leaving the army because the issue didn’t really come up yet? What does that mean for how the church should handle modern moral questions the Bible doesn’t describe in a story?

Across Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Clement, Tertullian, Cyprian, Arnobius, and Lactantius, the repeated “we” language is emphasized (“we refrain from making war,” “we offer the other cheek”); what do you think this reveals about early Christian communal identity, and how different is that from modern “personal conviction” approaches? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Early Christian writers often said “we don’t make war” and “we turn the other cheek.” What does that show about how they saw Christians as a group, and how is that different from treating faith as only a personal choice?

Cyprian says “it is not lawful for the innocent to kill even the guilty,” and Tertullian treats “You shall not kill” as an inclusive prohibition; how would accepting that premise reshape common Christian exceptions (self-defense, police/military service, “just war”), and where do you anticipate the hardest pushback? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If it’s never right to kill—even someone guilty—how would that change common Christian exceptions like self-defense, police/military work, or “just war”? Where do you think people would argue the most against that view?

Bercot uses the Garden of Gethsemane as an “object lesson” in not relying on swords, highlighting Jesus healing the enemy’s ear; what does that scene reveal about the kind of kingdom Jesus is building, and how would it confront the ways Christians seek security through force today? JumpstartAnother way to ask: In Gethsemane, Jesus stops the sword and heals the enemy’s ear. What does that tell you about the kind of kingdom Jesus is building, and how does it challenge Christians who look for safety through force today?

The lesson claims early Christians wouldn’t go to court, wouldn’t watch gladiator games or executions, and avoided violence and bloodshed broadly—not only war; what modern practices (entertainment, politics, online behavior, career choices) might be closer to those ancient spectacles than we want to admit? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If early Christians avoided courts, violent shows, and public killings, what things today might be our version of those spectacles? Which parts of entertainment, politics, online life, or careers might involve violence more than we want to admit?

Hippolytus’ policy in *Apostolic Tradition* allows some soldiers to remain if they refuse to kill and refuse oaths, yet rejects anyone who seeks to become a soldier; what assumptions about baptism, repentance, and allegiance to Christ are built into that policy, and how does it compare with how churches receive believers whose jobs require coercion or violence? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Why would Hippolytus allow a soldier to stay only if he refuses to kill and refuses oaths, but not allow someone to become a soldier? What does that say about what baptism and loyalty to Christ should mean, and how does that compare to how churches treat believers in jobs that use force?

Origen’s response to Celsus says Christians “refuse to fight under the king” but fight “in a divine way” through prayer, and Bercot links that to the later collapse of the empire after Christians took up the sword; what would it cost—and what would it require of faith—for you to believe prayer is genuinely more protective and politically “useful” than military force? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If Christians fight by praying instead of joining the king’s army, what would it cost you to really believe prayer protects and helps society more than military force? What kind of faith would you need to live that way?