Subtitle: How Christians Learned to Defend Pharaoh Because Moses Was “Too Dangerous”

Excerpt: Christians are defending oppressive systems, prioritizing order and stability over compassion and justice. This is a betrayal of Christ’s teachings, as seen in the story of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’ interactions with the marginalized.

Author: Joel Sarfraz

There is a strange and tragic moment happening in the modern Church.

Christians are defending Pharaoh.

Not because they love cruelty, but because Moses feels reckless.
Too disruptive.
Too compassionate.
Too politically inconvenient.
Too willing to unsettle the “stability” of the empire.

So we have learned to baptize the language of chains with Scripture.

We call cages “order.”
We call fear “wisdom.”
We call exclusion “faithfulness.”
And we call mercy “naivety.”

And if we are honest, this is not new.
It is the oldest religious trick in history:

use God-language to protect man-made power.

Supporting Injustice Is the Most Un-Christlike Thing a Christian Can Do

Christians often imagine unfaithfulness as personal failure.

Moral compromise.
Sexual sin.
Doubt.
Deconstruction.

But Scripture paints a far more dangerous picture of betrayal:

supporting injustice while claiming to follow Christ.

You can pray, sing, tithe, quote Scripture, defend orthodoxy and still be standing on the wrong side of God.

In fact, the Bible shows that the people who knew God’s words best were often the ones who most aggressively defended oppression.

«“Woe to those who make unjust laws… to deprive the poor of their rights and withhold justice from the oppressed…” (Isaiah 10:1–2)»

That “woe” was not aimed at atheists.
It was aimed at religious societies that used law, culture, and power to keep the vulnerable in their place.

Pharaoh Wears a Badge Now

Every generation finds new ways to dress up the same old evil.

In Moses’ day it wore a crown.
In Jesus’ day it wore a robe and quoted Scripture.
In our day it wears a uniform, carries paperwork, and calls itself “law and order.”

Pharaoh did not think he was a villain.
He thought he was preserving stability.

He had borders.
He had quotas.
He had economic fears.
He had a narrative about “security.”

And God judged him for it.

The Exodus is not a children’s story about bravery.
It is God’s declaration that no empire has the right to cage image-bearers.

The issue is not that law exists.

The issue is when law becomes a shield for cruelty and a weapon against the vulnerable.

So when Christians stand with systems that hunt the stranger, separate families, and turn the displaced into criminals, they are not standing with Moses.

They are standing with Pharaoh.

The Good Samaritan at the Checkpoint

Jesus told a story that destroys “law and order” religion.

A man is beaten and left for dead on the side of the road.
The religious leaders walk past him.

They are not necessarily cruel.
They are compliant.

They have reasons.
They have policies.
They have boundaries.
They can justify themselves without ever admitting they are hard-hearted.

Then a foreigner crosses every line.

He does not ask for documentation.
He does not check status.
He does not look for a reason to disqualify the wounded.

He refuses the unspoken rules that keep compassion safe.

He kneels in the dust and bleeds mercy.

And Jesus does not say, “Admire him.”
He says, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25–37)

Not: “Support the system that created the ditch.”
Not: “Vote for better roadside management.”
But: Become the kind of person who refuses compliance when compliance demands lovelessness.

When Law Becomes an Idol

The authorities who pushed for Jesus’ death did it in the name of order.

They did not hate righteousness.
They feared Rome.
They loved stability more than justice.

«“If we let him go on like this… the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.” (John 11:48)»

So they partnered with empire.

And that is the recurring temptation of religion:
when fear rises, it runs to Caesar for protection.

Christ was crucified by a coalition of religious certainty and state power.

So every time Christians defend cruelty because “the law is the law,” they are standing in Pilate’s courtyard, washing their hands while innocence is punished.

The question is not whether law matters.

The question is: what happens when law collides with love?

Because Jesus already answered that question.

He healed on the Sabbath.
He touched the unclean.
He ate with the rejected.
He crossed boundaries that religious people called “wisdom.”

And He did it not as rebellion for rebellion’s sake,
but as obedience to the heart of God.

“Submit to Authority” — And When to Resist It

Yes, Scripture teaches respect for governing authority.
Romans 13 and 1 Peter 2 are real.

But the same Bible also shows faithful people resisting authority when authority becomes a machine for oppression.

Hebrew midwives defy Pharaoh.
Prophets confront kings.
Daniel disobeys imperial decrees.
The apostles say, “We must obey God rather than men.”

Romans 13 is not a blank check for cruelty.

It is a vision of rulers who are meant to punish evil and reward good.

When rulers invert that calling,
the Church’s loyalty to Christ becomes visible.

The Stranger Is the Sacrament

Jesus leaves us no safe distance here.

«“I was a stranger and you welcomed Me… Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for Me.” (Matthew 25:35–40)»

Whether you read “the least of these” as the vulnerable broadly or Christ’s sent ones specifically,
Jesus still ties holiness to how we treat the exposed and powerless.

The stranger becomes, in a sense, a living altar where Christ chooses to meet us.

To reject them is not “discernment.”

It is desecration.

Why This Is a Spiritual Emergency

Supporting injustice is not a harmless difference of opinion.

It is a theological betrayal.

It is the worship of comfort over Christ.

It is choosing Pharaoh because Moses is inconvenient.
It is choosing Pilate because Jesus is disruptive.
It is choosing order because love is costly.

The Church does not lose its witness because it becomes too compassionate.

It loses its witness because it becomes too obedient to empire.

Conclusion: Love Is the Law That Judges Every Law

If anyone confuses you into protecting the rules of men by making it seem like you are protecting the rules of God, they are lying to you.

Any human law that commands sin or forbids mercy loses its claim on Christian obedience.

When obedience to Christ and obedience to cruelty collide,
the Church must obey Christ, even if it costs us.

Jesus broke Sabbath laws to heal.
He broke purity codes to touch the unclean.
He broke social boundaries to eat with outcasts.
He broke religious expectations to save sinners.

Not because rules are meaningless,
but because love is ultimate.

And when love and law collide,
Christ does not stand with the law.

He stands with the wounded.

And He asks us to stand there too.

References 

– Isaiah 10:1–2
– Exodus 1–14
– Luke 10:25–37
– Matthew 25:35–40
– Mark 2:23–28; Mark 3:1–6
– Hosea 6:6
– John 11:48; John 19:15
– Romans 13:1–7; 1 Peter 2:13–17
– Acts 5:29

–Gustave Doré, Moses Breaking the Tablets of the Law, engraving, ca. 1866, in La Sainte Bible, public domain.