I have often used Switzerland as an example. The Swiss have a long standing policy of neutrality. Geo-politically, this makes sense. They are land-locked between France, Germany, Italy and Austria. With a potential for being attacked from all sides, neutrality seems like a pretty good idea, and there have been times in European history when that neutrality has been a key factor in preserving lives, treasure and sanity (and not just for the Swiss). But then comes something like WWII--not exactly a fence line dispute. When you have a neighbor who is systematically killing thousands of innocent people and trying madly to extend their power, you take a stand. You declare that you will fight on the side of the innocent, on the side of human liberty, on the side of justice (and ultimately peace), because if you don't then you aide and abet evil and sell a bit of your soul.
We all have those moments in life. Some lives are full of them by the time an individual reaches adolescence, and some may not have to confront that moral question until old age, but that moment--when you have to stiffen your spine and stand a little taller--will come to all. When the Savior said, "He that loseth his life for my sake. . .", He knew that sometimes that would mean a very literal loss of life; He knew that sometimes it would mean the loss of relationships with people dear to us; He knew that it would sometimes mean the total loss of our earthly treasures, right down to homes and clothes. But what profiteth it a man if He should gain the world but lose his soul?
We have to be willing to call evil what it is, boldly but humbly, both in ourselves and in the world around us. We have to have the faith to fight it earnestly, faithfully, consistently. When we excuse, justify, enable or explain away immoral behavior because confronting it puts us in an awkward or difficult situation, we give away a bit of our own morality. Rarely does anyone suffer a tremendous loss of light all at once. Its bit by tiny bit that it usually happens--an excuse here, a blind eye there, until we can't hardly see any more at all. Often, we claim to be showing mercy. Mercy does not cower. Mercy does not excuse. Mercy is strong and resolute--it is understanding the full weight of the sin and error and showing forth love and forgiveness anyway. The Lord extends His mercy to us when we repent because He has paid the full price of our sin--He knows intimately its weight. We show forgiveness to others for the wrongs that they do against us. But we are not the Savior--we cannot take their sins upon us and presume to excuse them. What's more, when we try to do that, we step in where it is not our place--where only the Redeemer's power will suffice--and offer a bit of temporary, superficial relief to those we claim to help, giving them one more reason to delay turning to the Lord and placing those burdens on His back.
It seems counterintuitive, and must be approached with much sensitivity on a case by case basis, but sometimes the most merciful thing we can do for someone is to humbly but directly address their immoral behavior. Sometimes the kindest act is to step back and let someone fall--perhaps fall very hard--so that they will finally understand that they cannot do it on their own, that no mortal soul can do it for them. Sometimes people have to feel the tremendous weight of their choices, unaided by other people in carrying that burden, in order to finally understand that they must turn to the Lord and hand their burdens to Him.
And sometimes, the only way that will happen is if we take a stand, make the hard choice and refuse to excuse or ignore immoral behavior. When confronted with evil, we can't just bury our head in the sand and hope everything will turn out alright. The Lord designed us to be better than that. He expects more than that.
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