What happens when a nation keeps the moral fervor of the Puritans—but loses Jesus?
Something about the way we interpret justice in America does not sit right with me. There is no forgiveness built into the way we do things here in the U.S. One group with political influence wants to lock people up forever; another wants to acquit all our offenders. And both sides are guilty of turning a blind eye: out of sight, out of mind.
When I look around the world, I see very different visions of justice. For example, Norway has a maximum sentence of 21 years. If you have been alive for 21 years, stop and think about just how long that really is. How much have you changed in the last 21 years? Hopefully with the Lord’s help and Christian community, you have made progress in the area of sanctification these past couple of decades. If you have, who helped you? If you haven’t, who did you need to help you? And how can we create support systems to make sure you and others are encouraged along the path toward Christ-likeness?
Europe’s Model: Rehabilitation Over Retribution
Norway’s prisons offer education, job training, and therapy. As a result, they have a 20% recidivism rate compared to the U.S.’s staggering 70%. Germany and the Netherlands emphasize “resocialization”—preparing people for reentry into society. Their prison staff are highly trained professionals tasked with rehabilitation, not punishment.
Finland uses an “open prison” model, where prisoners can work, study, and interact with society. There are no fences or barbed wire at many facilities. The focus is on trust, responsibility, and reintegration. This leads to one of the lowest recidivism rates in the world.
Or consider Portugal, which decriminalized the use of all drugs in 2001 and shifted from a punitive model to a public health approach. Instead of incarceration, people are referred to treatment and counseling. The results? Dramatic reductions in drug-related deaths and incarceration rates, with addiction treated as a condition to be healed rather than punished.
It’s too simplistic to dismiss these countries as “soft on crime.” For most of my life, I assumed that America does it better than everyone else. Being superior used to be woven into the fabric of our zeitgeist.
Instead, we ought to ask ourselves: Why does our understanding of justice in America differ so drastically from other countries? Why is the American approach so harsh, so permanent, and so devoid of grace?
The Puritan Legacy: Judgment Without Joy
One reason lies in our theological DNA. America was deeply shaped by Puritanism. The early Protestant settlers brought with them a Calvinist worldview, with its strong emphasis on original sin, personal guilt, and divine judgment. Sin was something to be punished and controlled, not something to be healed. This formed a culture of moral absolutism: right vs. wrong, elect vs. damned.
That mindset still persists. In today’s cancel culture, we see the same moral binary at work. As long as a public figure agrees with the majority narrative, they are celebrated. But as soon as they diverge, they are shouted down, exiled, and erased. They are socially executed. Their apologies are parsed with suspicion. Forgiveness is not on the table. There is no road to restoration.
America has kept the judgment of the Puritans, but discarded the mercy of Christ.
Throughout American history, we have been at our best when moral conviction was paired with compassion. Today, secular America is hollow and joyless because it clings to the rigor of Puritanism while rejecting its source of hope. It is a system of justice without Jesus. And without Jesus, justice becomes cruelty dressed in righteousness.
The Bible’s Rhythm of Mercy: Jubilee and Refuge
The general perception of most people seems to be that the God of the Old Testament is bloodthirsty—His policy was justice first, with limited mercy for a select few (when they behave themselves). But OT Israel built mercy and forgiveness into its laws. In Leviticus 25, God institutes rhythms of release: the Sabbath year and the Year of Jubilee. Every seven years, the land was to rest. Every 49 years, liberty was to be proclaimed throughout the land. Land was restored to its original owners. Slaves were freed. Debts were forgiven. Families could begin again. The economy was built with grace in its architecture.
Contrast that with America. I’m sure most Americans think we have advanced far beyond OT Israel in all areas of public policy. But we have no Sabbath rhythm. We glorify productivity. In 2017 alone, Americans left 705 million vacation days unused. Workaholism is a national virtue. We also have no Jubilee. There is no built-in release from generational poverty. No restoration of lost opportunity. We tell the poor to “pull themselves up by their bootstraps” while cutting the laces.
At the heart of our broken system is a warped theology. Calvinism’s doctrine of double predestination still echoes in our public mindset. People are seen as either elect or damned, good or evil, salvageable or disposable. We quarantine criminals as if they are incurable diseases. We assume they cannot change. Rehabilitation seems pointless if someone’s depravity is permanent.
And what should we expect when we communicate to our criminals and at-risk youth that they are hopeless? They believe it. They inherently understand from childhood that they are not part of the American “elect.” They might not have heard Jeremiah 17:9, but in their own words they unconsciously have been taught that the heart is “desperately wicked” and “incurable.” And if people can’t change, then why bother trying?
Jesus and the Incurable Heart? A Better Translation
But is that really what Scripture teaches? Jeremiah 17:9 is often cited by Calvinists to support the idea of total depravity: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” But the Hebrew word anash more accurately means “sick” or “ill.” A sick heart can be healed. An incurable one cannot. Translation matters. Theology matters. And bad theology leads to bad psychology, which leads to bad policy.
Jesus Didn’t Cancel Anyone
Jesus never treated people as incurable. Even when nailed to a cross, He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34) His mercy extended even to the worst offenders. And according to 1 Peter 3:19, He even went to preach to the spirits in prison. The word used there is kēryssō – a word used over 60 times in the New Testament to describe persuasive preaching of good news. You don’t preach unless there is hope that someone might respond by changing their mind to your way of thinking.
Jesus didn’t lock people away and forget about them. He didn’t cancel Peter after denial or Thomas after doubt. He sought them out and restored them.
Even in Israel’s justice system, we see this theme of restoration. The Cities of Refuge (Numbers 35, Deuteronomy 19) allowed people who accidentally killed someone to flee into protective custody. They weren’t executed or exiled permanently. They could return home after the death of the high priest. This foreshadowed Jesus, our Great High Priest, whose death makes restoration possible for all exiles.
American secularism rightly sees the sickness in society—but it denies the cure. It diagnoses depravity but dismisses redemption. That’s the fatal flaw. Jesus heals everything He touches. Without Jesus, justice is simply vengeance.
Restoration Is the Heart of the Gospel
America needs better theology. We need to rediscover the Good News that pairs truth with grace, justice with mercy. Even if Americans don’t all share the same religious beliefs, replacing isolated Puritanism with the ethic of the Sermon on the Mount would be a profound step forward.
Justice without Jesus is not justice. It is judgment without hope. And a society without hope is desperately wicked, refusing to be healed.
But hope remains because Jesus has not abandoned the world with sending His Spirit. His gospel still heals, still restores, and still calls us to a better way. If we rediscover Him at the center of our vision for justice, we can begin to rebuild something beautiful: a society that punishes less and restores more, that cancels less and reconciles more, that believes no one is beyond redemption.