What Luke Teaches Us About Power, Justice, and the Reckoning to Come

Before I ever entered a courtroom, before I ever read a policy, I knew the Bible.

I was raised in Liberia by parents who gave their lives to service. My father, a U.S. Army veteran, converted to Christianity before I was born and soon after, became a preacher. After retiring from the Army, he returned to Liberia where he and my mother served as missionaries for 38 years. I grew up in Sunday School, church pews and revival tents. I was surrounded by scripture, not just the verses that comfort, but the ones that convict. Not just the stories of healing, but the ones that demand justice.

As I grew older, I found myself wrestling with a painful disconnect.  The Jesus I learned about: the one who uplifted the poor, confronted injustice, and called out abuse of power, was rarely reflected in the churches I attended. I watched as people who claimed Christianity also upheld systems that punished the vulnerable and protected the powerful. Eventually, I stopped going to church altogether. Not because I lost my faith, but because I couldn’t find Jesus in the places that claimed to represent Him.

My journey hasn’t followed the traditional path. But I am walking in faith. I am rooted in a personal relationship with God that calls me to tell the truth, to confront injustice, and to serve in a way that reflects the Jesus I was raised on.

I may not speak from a pulpit, but this is my ministry. My blogs are part of the call that God has placed upon my life.

My advocacy is rooted in my faith. It is shaped by scriptures like Luke 12:35-48, where Jesus doesn’t speak in metaphor, but in mandate. He doesn’t just offer advice, He offers warning.

Jesus begins with a call to readiness:

“Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning, like servants waiting for their master to return…” (v.35–36)

He paints a picture of stewards entrusted with authority. Leaders placed over others while the master is away.

Then Peter asks the question that reveals everything: “Lord, are you telling this parable to us, or to everyone?” (v.41)

Jesus doesn’t say, “This is for the world.” He says, “To you who have been given much, more will be required.”

This message is for those in charge. For those managing people, systems, and resources. For those who know what is right and still choose what is easy. Jesus says plainly: if a steward uses his power to harm those below him, he will be cut down and cast out.

He calls it wickedness. Not failure. Wickedness.

This is a message about accountability. And it’s not for the poor. Not for the powerless. It’s for the powerful.

A Reckoning for Those Who Know Better

“The servant who knows the master’s will and does not do what the master wants will be beaten with many blows.” (v.47)

Let that sink in.

The more you know, the greater your responsibility. The more you’re given, the higher the standard. And if you use your position to abuse, delay, control, or exploit, there is a reckoning.

This is the lens through which I view today’s child welfare system. Not as a “misguided” system that simply needs more training. But as a steward of immense power, one that knows better and still harms the very people it was tasked to serve.

This parable is not just about modern systems; it mirrors the very foundation of this country.

From its beginning, The United States distributed power unequally: land and rights to white men; surveillance, subjugation, and servitude to everyone else.

Some inherited privilege. Others inherited poverty, criminalization, and family separation.

And just like in Luke 12, we are now watching the descendants of the original stewards misuse their authority. Systems built on slavery, genocide, and exclusion now call themselves “protective.” But no amount of rebranding can erase the injustice in their design.

Child welfare agencies have been entrusted with immense power. They can remove a child with no warning, keep families in limbo for years, and terminate parental rights forever. Yet when they break the law, miss deadlines, ignore court orders, or delay services, no one is held accountable.

As I said in my podcast:

It’s time to terminate DCF’s rights!

If parents can lose their children for failing to meet impossible standards, then the system should lose its authority when it fails to follow its own laws. The parable in Luke 12 makes this spiritual truth clear: the abusive steward will face judgment. And those who know better will be judged more severely.

If you claim Christianity and support these systems without question, you are not neutral, you are complicit.

Jesus didn’t protect abusive stewards. He didn’t stay silent in the face of injustice. He named it, flipped tables, and called leaders to account for it. If your faith has no space for that kind of confrontation, it’s not Christianity, it’s comfort.

Luke 12 is a mirror:

To child welfare systems.

To the United States.

To the church.

It’s a warning: You have been given much. What have you done with it?

Jesus ends the parable with urgency:

“You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.” (v.40)

He is coming, not just for those who have suffered, but for those who caused the suffering. For the stewards who abused their power. For the systems that forgot mercy. For the agencies that destroyed families under the banner of protection.

So here is my call:

To the system. Your reckoning is overdue.

To the church. Choose your side.

To the reader. Let the scripture shape your sense of justice.

Because when the Master returns, He will not ask how well you protected the system.

He will ask: What did you do with the power I entrusted to you?