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Righteousness is one of those words we use frequently in Christianity without always stopping to consider what it actually means.
We talk about righteous people, righteous behaviour and standing for righteousness. Yet somewhere along the way, righteousness can become confused with something quite different: the belief that being righteous gives us rights over other people.
The right to judge them.
The right to condemn them.
The right to tell them how they should live.
And sometimes, regrettably, even the right to be unpleasant to them because we believe that God is on our side.
But righteousness isn’t a right.
It’s a status.
Within Christian theology, righteousness is closely connected with being in right standing with God.
This is particularly clear in Romans 5:1, where justification through faith is connected with having peace with God through Jesus Christ.
That distinction is important because it changes the direction in which we look.
If righteousness is something that gives me rights, I look outwards towards other people.
What are they doing wrong?
How are they behaving?
What should they change?
But if righteousness concerns my standing with God, the first direction I should look is inward.
Where do I stand with God?
And perhaps more importantly:
Does the way I live reflect that relationship?
There is another reason righteousness should not become a source of superiority.
The New Testament repeatedly connects righteousness with faith rather than personal moral achievement. Romans 3, for example, presents righteousness as something received through faith rather than something established simply by observing the law.
That leaves remarkably little room for boasting.
If righteousness were a prize awarded because I had proved myself morally superior to everyone around me, perhaps I could display it as an achievement.
But that isn’t what righteousness means.
It describes my standing before God.
That doesn’t make me better than somebody else.
And it certainly doesn’t give me ownership of righteousness.
This is where I think the language matters.
Righteousness is not a right. It is a status.
Being in right standing with God does not grant me additional rights over another human being.
It doesn’t give me permission to treat someone badly.
It doesn’t automatically make me the judge of another person’s life.
It doesn’t give me the right to humiliate someone with whom I disagree.
And it doesn’t somehow transform cruelty into virtue simply because I believe my underlying position is correct.
If anything, claiming to be in right standing with God should place a greater responsibility on my behaviour, not somebody else’s.
The status should be visible in how I live.
This distinction becomes particularly important when we disagree with someone.
It is entirely possible for us to be right about something and still behave wrongly towards the person who is wrong.
We sometimes lose sight of that.
We convince ourselves that because our position is righteous, everything we do in defence of that position must also be righteous.
But those are two different questions.
Am I right about this issue?
And:
Am I treating this person rightly?
The answer to the first does not automatically determine the answer to the second.
I can hold deeply Christian convictions while behaving in an entirely unchristian manner towards somebody who doesn’t share them.
Being right does not give me the right to be mean.
If righteousness concerns our standing with God, it should lead us towards humility rather than superiority.
There is an enormous difference between saying:
“I am righteous, therefore I am better than you.”
and saying:
“I seek to be in right standing with God, therefore I need to examine how I am living.”
The first examines everybody else.
The second examines ourselves.
The first asks whether other people are meeting our standards.
The second asks whether our own words and actions are consistent with our relationship with God.
That second question can be considerably more uncomfortable.
It is also considerably harder to avoid.
Calling righteousness a status doesn’t mean that our behaviour is irrelevant.
Quite the opposite.
Biblical discussions of righteousness encompass both right standing and the way righteousness is subsequently expressed in how we live.
Our status should affect our behaviour.
If I claim righteousness but routinely demonstrate anger, contempt, cruelty or arrogance towards other people, there is an obvious contradiction worth examining.
The question therefore becomes:
What does my righteousness look like to somebody else?
Does it look like compassion?
Does it look like patience?
Does it look like integrity?
Can I disagree without humiliating?
Can I maintain my principles without abandoning kindness?
Can I believe another person is wrong without believing that gives me permission to treat that person wrongly?
Those are much harder tests of righteousness than simply declaring what we believe.
One of the dangers of confusing righteousness with being right is that righteousness can become a weapon.
Instead of something describing our relationship with God, it becomes something we use against somebody else.
“I am righteous.”
Very quickly becomes:
“Therefore you are unrighteous.”
And that can become:
“Therefore I am justified in how I treat you.”
That is precisely where we need to stop.
Standing for what we believe to be right does not require us to seek someone to stand against.
We can have convictions without hatred.
We can disagree without contempt.
We can defend principles without abandoning compassion.
Indeed, the real test of our righteousness may not be how we behave towards people who agree with us.
It may be how we behave towards the people who don’t.
Perhaps, then, when we find ourselves condemning someone else in the name of righteousness, we should pause.
Instead of immediately asking:
“Is this person right with God?”
Perhaps we should first ask:
“Am I right with God in the way I am treating this person?”
That changes the conversation.
It brings righteousness back to where it started: our own relationship with God.
Righteousness isn’t permission.
It isn’t superiority.
It isn’t authority over somebody else.
And it certainly isn’t a weapon with which to beat people who believe or live differently from us.
Righteousness is not a right.
It is a status.
And if that status really means being in right standing with God, then surely one of the clearest demonstrations of it should be visible in how we treat one another.