If someone on death row said, “I’m not perfect,” everyone would say, “No sh*t, Sherlock.” That’s not just an understatement. It’s almost denial. And sometimes it is denial.

That’s like a murderer shrugging off and saying, “Well, nobody’s perfect.” Or falling back on “I’m only human.” Such phrases reveal how lightly we take sin.

If a convicted prisoner said it, we’d scoff. Yet according to Jesus, we’re not so different.

We see death row inmates as the worst of the worst. Monsters whose crimes are visible and undeniable. We tell ourselves we’re nothing like them. But Jesus said that if you hate someone, you’re guilty of murder. That includes me.

The evil we condemn in a killer is the same evil Jesus sees in us when we hate. So when we look at someone like a school shooter and say, “At least I’m not evil like that,” we’re making the same mistake as the Pharisees.

The Pharisees thought they were righteous because they focused on outward obedience. They believed they were innocent as long as they didn’t physically murder, commit adultery, or break other visible laws. But Jesus exposed their hearts. He said their inner thoughts and attitudes, hatred, pride, self-righteousness, were just as sinful as the acts themselves.

So when you say, “We look at evil people and think, ‘I’d never do that,’” that’s the same kind of blindness the Pharisees had. It’s not that they were wrong about sin being evil, but they failed to see that the same root of sin lived in them.

Jesus dismantles that comfort of self-righteousness. He said that anyone who hates their brother is a murderer in the heart 1 John 3:15, and that extends beyond biological siblings.

Literally!

Hating someone, even a truly wicked person, means there is murder in your heart. That’s what Jesus taught. Saying “I’m not like them” misses the point entirely.

Hating evil people is no excuse. Evil should grieve us, not turn us into the very thing we condemn. The moment hate takes root, we stop reflecting God’s justice and start reflecting our own vengeance, playing god.

And this is why the gospel is essential. It strips away the clichés. “I’m not perfect” , which sounds honest and humble, but it’s often just a cover and appears not to understand the depth of our sin.

And we’d roll our eyes if a death row inmate said this. If it’s ridiculous coming from them, why is it acceptable coming from us?

Remember

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Matthew 5:44-45

Ezekiel 33:11 “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.”

Putting it into perspective

It’s all about just putting it into perspective. Nowt wrong with a wee perspective change.

Until that perspective changes, tho, you won’t see it that way. You’ll still think you’re nothing like that inmate. Like I used to, you’ll find the comparison insulting, even very offensive. But if we continue to see this as offensive, then we react in such a way the Pharisees did, which would mean omitting repentance, since if one doesn’t see this truth, they would ignore their murder. So, this isn’t about condemnation; it’s about allowing ourselves to reach repentance.

And even though I want to hate an evil person on death row, I constantly remind myself what Jesus said, that murder is hate, so I can’t condemn such a person; we can desire justice, etc, but the moment I hate, the moment I’m a hypocrite and self-righteous, which is a dangerous route.

It’s not easy

But it’s not easy. Whenever I see news flashes on TV, a stabbing here, a shooting there, I often feel hatred rise and think, “How could they do such a thing?” Yet I do the same in my heart when I hate them. That makes me a hypocrite. I can’t say, “How could they do such a thing?” while doing the same inwardly.

You might say, “Dylan Moth, that’s not even close. “It’s only human to feel this way” But it’s not me who says otherwise, it’s Jesus. He tells us that we’re guilty of murder even if we don’t physically commit it. This is His standard, not mine.

If I were standing in “God’s courtroom”, so to speak, my record would show murder, even though I’ve never taken a life. That’s how serious it is. And if we don’t grasp that, we’re basically giving the middle finger to Jesus, saying, “No, Jesus, you’re wrong, that’s ridiculous” Jesus isn’t wrong. And it’s not about strict religiously, it’s that murder starts inward, most sin does.

“It’s not what comes into a man that deflifes him but what comes out” Matthew 15:11

Sometimes I find myself desiring justice for a school shooter who cowardly took their own life to escape it. Yet, if that same shooter had placed their trust in Jesus, justice would have been taken care of that way, too, through Jesus.

I believe the Spirit has convicted me on this, to remember that Jesus took the justice upon Himself for those who trust in Him, rather than me finding satisfaction in the thought of their eternal torment.

I mean, I can’t see how that could be anything but hate, to desire eternal torment for someone, though I get it.

And this is often a point of contention. How can an evil person go unpunished? But my perspective is that if Jesus has already paid their eternal debt in full, then any further punishment would be unnecessary. That’s how I try to make this not-so-easy task into a different perspective to mitigate that anger within me

Is it righteous anger, though?

Then I’m reminded of what Jesus said and shrug it off, realising I’m being a wee bit of a Pharisee. I sometimes excuse it as “righteous anger” or a desire for justice, and I often see others do the same. I can’t know their hearts, but via inference, their reactions usually show the same spirit. Though it appears to be just a cop-out.

We should be careful when calling our anger “righteous,” because we might just be convincing ourselves it’s holy when it’s really condemning. Don’t get me wrong, it can be righteous anger.

But imagine that, going through our lives thinking we are righteously judging, yet all along it’s been murder in the heart.

Food for thought.

Now the Moth must be on his way. And the light must be sought.

Blessings.

I am a murderer. (according to Jesus)

I’ve hated evil people in the past. Haven’t we all?

But Jesus taught that hate is murder. His words expose my heart and strip away any illusion of self‑righteousness. Before God’s holiness, I stand guilty of murder in the heart, even if not in deed.

He wasn’t being figurative. Hatred and anger are morally equivalent to murder in God’s eyes, making me guilty even without taking a life.

When Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said… but I say to you,” He referred to the Mosaic Law as people commonly interpreted it and revealed its deeper meaning. The Law wasn’t the problem; people had reduced it to outward acts.

People believed they were innocent as long as they refrained from physically committing murder or adultery, yet Jesus revealed that God’s standard is far higher. The same applies to adultery; we see lust as a wee sin, but God sees it as if you slept with another woman.

If we misunderstand Jesus, we think we’re fine for not being “like that guy,” yet ignore the murder in our hearts.

He wasn’t condemning us but calling us to repentance, and if we miss this truth, repentance itself is left out. That’s the point,

This is why I can’t look down on someone on death row, because judging them for murder while guilty of it in my heart would be hypocrisy. That’s a dangerous route as it replaces humility with self‑righteousness.

Perhaps a good way to mitigate this, although it can be extremely difficult, is to become a pen pal for someone on death row, sharing the gospel with them.

The roundness of a circle cannot be determined by external factors; it’s intrinsic to its nature. If someone tried to do so, we’d be a wee bit confused and would immediately recognise that the intrinsic had been omitted, with the extrinsic being conflated with what belongs to the object itself.

You wouldn’t call it circular reasoning to point to a circle’s intrinsic circularity. That’s not a fallacious loop; it’s simply a statement of an essential property.

As we see with our wee circle, appealing to the extrinsic for intrinsic qualities misses the point, especially when discussing God and goodness.

Yet, it’s common for people, when talking about the Christian God, to claim it’s circular to refer to God’s goodness as intrinsic to His unchanging nature. But His commands express that nature; they aren’t arbitrary, for God is the very essence of will and goodness itself.

This resolves the Euthyphro dilemma, though many reject this answer because our fellow interlocutor tends to conflate the extrinsic with the intrinsic. The dilemma asks whether goodness comes from God’s commands or exists independently, but it overlooks the intrinsic option, often omitting it altogether, which is very odd given that it’s all about the intrinsic option. So, when we keep the intrinsic in view, we see that the dilemma arises only when we limit ourselves to extrinsic standards.

Yet, if appealing to a circle’s intrinsic nature isn’t circular reasoning, why should it be when we appeal to God’s?

It’s hard to object to someone referring to a circle’s intrinsic circularity. I can’t say, “No, you can’t define it by its circularity,” because that’s exactly what makes it a circle, its circularity. To deny that would be to misunderstand what a circle is by nature. Its definition doesn’t depend on external measurements or comparisons but on the essential quality that makes it what it is.

And, likewise, the same goes for God. He doesn’t merely have goodness or possess will; He is goodness itself, and His will is identical with His nature.