“Well, I don’t want to be just like Jesus because he is dead,” my 5-year-old son blurted out one morning on the way to school. His deadpan delivery startled me. My theological brain wanted to jump in about resurrection and eternal life, but he had named something profound: We want to be like Jesus—but not exactly like him. None of us longs for crucifixion.
That childlike honesty stayed with me, especially as I’ve spent the last five years investigating women’s experiences of sexism and abuse in the church. My book, SAFE CHURCH: How to Guard Against Sexism & Abuse in Christian Communities (Baker 2025), explores this reality in depth. The findings are heartbreaking, though not surprising. Women in the church have been harmed, silenced, and devalued, often in the very places that claim to bear the name of Jesus.
But Jesus himself did the opposite—lifting women, dignifying them, refusing to participate in their shaming. So why does his church so often side with abusers rather than with victims? That larger question is one I’ll keep pressing, but for this essay, I want to wrestle with something practical: How can we become more like Jesus without confusing that call with tolerating abuse?
When Scripture Gets Weaponized
Abuse changes everything. Scripture in the hands of an abuser is like lemon juice on an open wound—something meant to bring life becomes corrosive and cruel.
Take “turn the other cheek” (Matthew 5:39). This verse is often thrown at women in violent marriages, urging them to endure quietly. But in Jesus’s world, a slap was an insult more than a beating. Turning the left cheek was not submission—it was defiance. It rejected the insult’s power and forced the aggressor to confront the victim’s dignity. Far from sanctioning abuse, Jesus was modeling nonviolent resistance to humiliation.
Yet time and again, verses meant to point toward freedom have been twisted into chains. Women are told that forgiveness means returning to danger. They are told that being “humble” means erasing themselves. They are told that “blessed are you when persecuted” applies to being cursed out by a husband or demeaned by a pastor. The sanctity of marriage is prized above the sacred worth of women made in God’s image. This is not humility. This is not suffering-with-Christ. This is bondage dressed up in biblical language, a form of spiritual bypassing.
Authentic Humility vs. Self-Hatred
Matthew 23:12 teaches, “Those who humble themselves will be exalted.” But the church has too often confused humility with self-hatred—especially for women. Authentic humility doesn’t mean making yourself small so others can dominate you. The root word of humility, humus, literally means “earth.” It refers to the rich soil formed through organic decay, the ground where new life flourishes. Humility is not about erasure; it’s about groundedness. Stewarded pain can break us open into fertile soil, but abuse is not fertile—it is poison.
The path of Christ never asks us to seek pain or remain in danger. The first step is always safety. Only then can suffering be stewarded into wisdom, boundaries, and new growth.
There is a world of difference between redemptive suffering—the kind that deepens us through grief, loss, or trials of faith—and inane suffering—the pointless destruction of abuse. One brings life; the other brings death.
Jesus Brings Life; Abuse Brings Death
Over and over again, Scripture sets the contrast:
Jesus is Life
“I am the resurrection and the life.” (John 11:25)
“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10b)
Abuse is Death
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” (John 10:10a)
Jesus is Light
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)
Abuse is Darkness
Abuse obscures truth, isolates victims, and snuffs out hope. This is the line of discernment: if it steals, kills, and destroys—it is not of Christ. If it gives life, light, and liberation—it bears his presence.
Becoming Like Jesus, Without Becoming a Doormat
To be like Jesus is not to embrace abuse. It is not to remain silent in the face of violence. It is not to diminish yourself so that another can inflate their power. To be like Jesus is to live courageously in truth. It is to resist degradation. It is to steward pain into fertile soil. It is to move from inane suffering into redemptive suffering, where even death can give way to resurrection life.
If the church is to bear Christ’s name, then it must be clear: Jesus never blesses abuse. Jesus never demands submission to violence. Jesus never sides with darkness.
And so the question is not, Am I suffering like Jesus? The question is, Does this suffering lead to life—or to death? If it leads to death, it is not Christ. If it leads to life, even through grief and loss, then Christ is present.
My son was right in his blunt little way: I want to be like Jesus—but not dead. Not crucified by abuse, not silenced by power, not erased in the name of false humility.
To be like Jesus is to choose life over death, light over darkness, truth over manipulation, dignity over shame. It is to rise again and again into the fullness of our God-given worth.
Anything less is not the gospel.
