Sicario and the Providence of the Sword

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“For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”
— Romans 13:4

This post might seem jarring in light of the recent assassination of Charlie Kirk. An individual sought vengeance against an innocent man simply because he publicly proclaimed his beliefs. That is never justified—not ever.

But let’s consider a more complex scenario, one that challenges our assumptions about justice and the instruments God can use.

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The final scene of Sicario unsettles more than any gun battle. Alejandro, the Sicario, is holding his pistol under Kate’s chin, forcing her to sign a document declaring everything they had done was “by the book.” It wasn’t. The paper is a lie, meant to appease the powers that be so the U.S. covert program can continue its off-the-record war against the cartels.

Only after she signs does Alejandro speak the chilling words:

“You should move to a small town. Somewhere the rule of law still exists. You’re not a wolf, and this is the land of wolves now.”

Kate, with her ideals of law and procedure, realizes in that moment she is a sheep in wolf territory. The law has no reach here.

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Alejandro, though, is not only an agent of vengeance, nor does he act on his own. The very word sicario means hitman, and in ancient times, the sicarii were dagger-men, Zealots who struck down oppressors in the streets of Judea. They were violent, feared, and far from righteous in themselves.

And yet in the film, this sicario becomes more than an assassin, more than a vengeance seeker. He is the sheepdog, the sword in a world where courts have no teeth. His vengeance is rough and imperfect—but in God’s providence, it restrains evil.

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This is what Paul describes in Romans 13: rulers bearing the sword as servants of God, avengers who carry out wrath on wrongdoers. Usually, this happens within the boundaries of law. But sometimes, disturbingly, God uses men outside the system—Alejandro types—to check the wolves.

Here we should remember Jesus’ words:

“Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matt. 5:9)

Too often, we confuse peacemaking with peacekeeping. A peacekeeper is primarily concerned with quiet, with the absence of conflict. He will compromise truth or delay justice in order to maintain a fragile calm.

A peacemaker, however, confronts what is broken. He knows real peace can only stand if it is built on righteousness. Peacemaking demands courage, because it requires exposing evil rather than tolerating it. That is why Micah ties peace to justice:

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

Anything less is appeasement.

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In Sicario: Day of the Soldado, this becomes clearer. Alejandro begins as vengeance embodied, but his role bends toward protection. He shields the vulnerable. The hitman becomes sheepdog. And while the film leaves us uneasy, it also points us to a truth: God, in His sovereignty, can use even vengeance-driven men as instruments to guard the sheep—as long as it is a measured response to restrain rampant evil.

Still, the sword is never final. Jesus warned,

“All who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matt. 26:52)

The sheepdog can protect, but he cannot heal. The sword can restrain, but it cannot redeem. Only the Good Shepherd can. His rod and staff comfort as well as defend. His peace is not fragile compromise, but the union of justice and mercy.

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Alejandro told Kate, “You’re not a wolf.” He meant it as not a condemnation of her, but as a recognition of the times and her suitability to them. For us, in Christ, we are not wolves. For a time, we may have to trust in sheepdogs—but not forever. The Kingdom of God grows, and because His sheep are precious to the Shepherd, He will one day silence every wolf and bring perfect peace: peace that never compromises truth, peace that needs no sword.

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“People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
— George Orwell

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Call to Action:
Pray today for discernment and courage. Ask for guidance about where you can act as a peacemaker, confronting what is broken with courage, acting justly, and walking humbly with Him, even in a world that often rewards wolves.

In excelsis Deo

All Things in Christ

 

 

Days later, still grieving the loss of a great American and remembering the loss of many more in the past.  We see the swirl of pain, hurt, the endless hum of frenzied activity.  We cannot but ask, where is it all headed? What holds it all together?

History is not without direction. Nations are not beyond account. Cultures are not free to drift unanchored. The apostle Paul declared, in Ephesians 1:10, that God’s eternal purpose is “to gather all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth.”

That word all admits no exceptions. Not only the soul in prayer, but the state in power. Not only the church at worship, but the culture at work. Governments, economies, societies—all alike stand under the lordship of Christ.

Colossians 1:20 presses the point further: God is reconciling all things to Himself. That truth reaches into every sphere of life. It denies the myth of neutrality. It strips nations of their claim to moral independence. It reminds every ruler, every institution, every people, that they are accountable—not to history, not to chance, but to the King of Kings.

The day is coming when that accountability will be visible, when every power will yield, when every culture will confess, when every nation will bow before Him. Some in joy, others in judgment. But all in truth.

In the meantime, we live as witnesses to that reality. We bear testimony in our work, our justice, our mercy, our hope. We know the end of the story, and so we live today with confidence.

History is not a circle, nor a chaos, nor a void. It is a road, straight and certain, God ordained and leading to Christ. And in the fullness of time, everything—yes, everything—will be gathered unto Him.

Soli Deo Gloria

 

Light Against the Darkness

 

Today is a doubly sad day. We commemorate September 11, when thousands of innocent civilians were killed in an act of terror, and we mourn the murder of a strong Christian warrior, Charlie Kirk. Both remind us of the same reality: the world is not as it should be. Evil is real. Darkness presses in. And yet, from the very beginning, God told us this battle would come.

In Genesis 3:15, often called the protoevangelium—the first gospel promise—God declared enmity between the serpent and the woman, between their offspring forever. That ancient word set the stage for all of history: a conflict of good versus evil, truth versus lies, light versus darkness.

Charlie Kirk understood that fight. He stood fearlessly where many would have cowered. He believed, like the apostle Paul, that we must “take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them” (Ephesians 5:11). He knew that our struggle was not merely cultural or political but spiritual—rooted in that ancient enmity announced in Eden.

The Scriptures speak with clarity about how God’s people are to confront darkness. Jesus Himself rebuked it: “Be silent, and come out of him!” (Mark 1:25). Michael the archangel, contending with the devil, did not rely on his own strength but declared, “The Lord rebuke you!” (Jude 1:9). And we are called to resist as well: “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7) 

Charlie lived this way—clothed in the armor of light (Romans 13:12), holding fast to the truth that God has “delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son” (Colossians 1:13). He carried himself as a man who believed Jesus’ words: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

September 11 reminds us of the destructive power of evil. Charlie Kirk’s life reminds us of the greater power of good. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5). That was true on the worst of days. It was true in Charlie’s life. And it remains true today.

The battle is not over. But Christ’s victory is certain. And until that day when He crushes the serpent’s head once and for all, we stand as children of the light—rebuking the darkness, exposing it, resisting it, and living in the hope of redemption.

Charlie stood there. Fearless. Bold. Clear-eyed. A champion of what is good and right and true. His light will not go out, for those he touched now bear it forward.

And so, on this somber day, we remember. We grieve. But we also resolve. For the darkness has not overcome the Light.

Soli Deo Gloria 

 

Echoes in Eternity

  

As a young boy myself and my brother and our friends went everywhere on our bikes.  We used to race around the neighborhood, legs pumping, wind in our face.  We'd laugh and laugh.  And at the end of the race we skidded to a stop with dirt flying.  We never realized if there was something bigger than our fun times, something bigger than ourselves. 

But where did all that laughter go? Did it vanish into the air the moment it left our mouths? Or does it still carry somewhere, farther than we know?

When I hear or read something interesting I write it down in one of my pocket notebooks.  Yesterday I turned to a quote from a wonderful movie from long ago called Gladiator: “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” That was a small line in a speech Russel Crowe's character General Maximus gives to his Roman troops before battle.  

I wonder if that sentiment points to something real? Doesn’t Scripture itself raise the stakes? “For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:10). “Whatever one sows, that will he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). Those are true, so no choice we make can be as small as we might think. 

On the positive side, what if the words we speak in kindness are not forgotten? What if the prayers we whisper in secret ring louder in heaven than we imagine? What if the quiet sacrifices of love resound long after we are gone?

And what about today? When this moment is gone, will it fade into nothing—or will it echo forever?

I thank Christ, and his promise of eternity....

Soli Deo Gloria 
 

 

Why Nations, Too, Must Bow to Christ

Boys are natural boundary-testers. Put them in a barn or a backyard, and before long they’re climbing higher, leaping farther, daring one another to stretch the rules. But no matter how bold the challenge, one thing never changes: gravity always wins.

Nations are much the same. They test God’s boundaries, convince themselves they can define right and wrong, and push against His authority. But sooner or later, the Lord of heaven and earth reminds them: He governs the rafters and the floor. His law holds firm, whether they recognize it or not.

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God Judges Nations, Not Just Individuals

Scripture makes this truth unavoidable:

• Nineveh: God spoke to Jonah, “Arise, go to Nineveh… for their evil has come up before me” (Jonah 1:2). Their repentance stayed God’s judgment.

• Babylon: “Repay her according to her deeds… for she has been proud against the Lord” (Jeremiah 50:29–31).

• Egypt: God judged Pharaoh and “on all the gods of Egypt” (Exodus 12:12).

• Canaan: “The land vomited out its inhabitants” because of their abominations (Leviticus 18:24–28).

God does not treat nations as morally neutral. He blesses righteousness and punishes wickedness.

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Blessing or Reproach

The Bible states the principle with clarity:

• “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord” (Psalm 33:12).

• “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people” (Proverbs 14:34).

• “The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God” (Psalm 9:17).

These are not poetic suggestions but promises and warnings. Nations that honor God flourish; nations that reject Him collapse.

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The Great Commission and Nations

We often shrink the Great Commission to personal evangelism. But Jesus’ words are broader:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them… teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19–20 NKJV).

The Greek ethnē means peoples, cultures, nations. "Many people misunderstand the Great Commission as a command to make disciples of people from all nations. This is not what Matthew records in Koine Greek that Jesus commanded his disciples to do. Rather, he commanded them to disciple the nations as nations. i.e. to make Christian nations."1  (Nearly all literal translations get this right.)

The main issue with the above modern translation - "make disciples of" all nations - is it turns the Greek verb 'to disciple' into the English verb 'to make.'2.  Is should read "Go therefore and disciple all the nations" (matheteusate panta ta ethne).  

Isaiah foresaw nations streaming to the mountain of the Lord (Isaiah 2:2–3). John saw nations walking by the Lamb’s light (Revelation 21:24).

God’s vision is not only for scattered believers in secular nations. He intends for nations themselves to be discipled, taught, and ordered under Christ.

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The Case for Christian Nationalism

If Christ is King of kings and Lord of lords (Revelation 19:16), then every nation owes Him allegiance. Neutrality is not an option. Governments that enact laws contrary to Christ’s commands are in rebellion against their rightful King.

Christian nationalism, rightly understood, is not about merging church and state. It is about nations recognizing their accountability to God and ordering their public life—laws, customs, culture—under the authority of Christ.

Anything less is not neutrality. It is rebellion.

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Is Christian Nationalism Dangerous?

Critics warn that Christian nationalism is dangerous, leading to oppression or forced religion. And yes—when men wield power in Christ’s name without His character, danger follows. History bears that out.

But here’s the real question: is it more dangerous for a nation to acknowledge Christ—or to pretend He does not reign?

Every law reflects someone’s morality. The choice is not between “imposing religion” and “neutral freedom.” The choice is between Christ’s wisdom and human pride. “When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked rule, the people groan” (Proverbs 29:2).

The true danger is not in nations honoring Christ. The danger is in nations rejecting Him.

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What About Religious Freedom?

Another objection: doesn’t Christian nationalism erase religious freedom? Doesn’t discipling nations mean coercion?

The Great Commission itself answers: Christ calls us to disciple nations through preaching, baptism, and teaching—not by sword or compulsion. True Christian faith cannot be forced.

A Christian nation would protect freedom of conscience, persuasion, and worship. But religious freedom does not mean moral anarchy. Even today, secular nations impose morality through law on marriage, family, and life.

The real question is: whose morality will guide us—Christ’s, or man’s?

A nation ordered under Christ would not force belief but would acknowledge His Lordship in its laws and culture, seeking justice, protecting the vulnerable, and upholding righteousness. That is not the death of freedom—it is its safeguard.

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The Inescapable Truth

Just as boys learn that gravity is not mocked, nations will one day learn that Christ’s authority cannot be ignored.

Every nation will bow. Some will bow in judgment, others in joy. The wise will begin bending the knee now, aligning their public life with the only King who rules in righteousness and truth.

Christian nationalism, rightly understood, is not a danger to be feared but a duty to be embraced. For Christ already reigns, and the nations are His inheritance (Psalm 2:8).

Soli Deo Gloria  

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1 - The Great Decommission, Stephen Perks p.10

2 - ibid p.8