Blood on our hands? “When I say unto the wicked, thou shalt surely die; and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his life; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand.” Ezekiel 3:18. Listening to a message on the above passage of Scripture, the speaker made the following remarks. Without attempting, at least initially, to offer a different interpretation of the text, I would simply like to consider the underlying idea being presented. If we fail to witness, will the blood of those whom the Lord brings within our sphere of influence be upon our hands?
According to this minister, that is precisely what will take place: > “If we fail to warn the wicked of their great and grave danger of dying in their sins and entering a Christ-less eternity, then we shall be held responsible. Their blood will be on our hands. Disobedience in soul winning makes us guilty of the crime of mutiny…. Now, if we fail to warn that person, and that lost person perishes, we’re verily guilty of letting them die in their sin. However, if we’ve shared Christ with that person, and they’ve still chosen to die in their sin, then we are absolved of that responsibility because you’ve warned them, you’ve been faithful to warn them. It’s on them, not on us… This realization that we have possibly allowed souls to go to their eternal damnation should indeed chill us. We don’t wanna be the watchman with blood on our hands. Here’s some reminders of the sheer gravity of our responsibility….We will stand before our Creator and account for our lives as Christians.”
Okay, I think we all get the direction. The question I would like to explore is not merely whether Christians ought to speak of Christ. Most believers would readily agree that they should. Rather, the question is whether Scripture places the eternal destiny of others, in any measure, upon our shoulders. Are we truly responsible if someone perishes without hearing from us? Can the blood of another person actually be laid to our account? And what happens to our understanding of salvation, grace, and the sovereignty of God when we begin speaking in such terms? Could failure to engage in what they call soul winning be viewed as disobedience, negligence and even a form of mutiny against God’s command? And will believers one day stand before God and give an account for whether they fulfilled this responsibility?
At first glance, this may sound like a powerful motivation for evangelism. In reality, however, it places the believer under an almost unbearable burden. If the preacher is correct, then every missed opportunity, every conversation not pursued, every stranger not approached, every family member not warned, every coworker not confronted, and every neighbor not evangelized potentially becomes a matter of eternal consequence. The believer is left wondering not merely whether he has been faithful, but whether someone else’s destruction may ultimately be charged to their account. This sounds far more like religious bondage than gospel liberty.
Perhaps part of the reason I react so strongly to this kind of language is because I have lived under it myself. I did not grow up reading the Scriptures. In fact, I had never opened a Bible until I was nineteen years old. My first encounters with Christianity took place in a very evangelistic arminian setting. The Lord was beginning to teach me, but I had no framework for weighing what I was hearing. I was sincere, eager, and hungry to learn, but I had almost no understanding of the gospel itself. I believed whatever I was told and eagerly drank it all in.
I still remember hearing a sermon on this very passage. The message was clear: if people perished without hearing from me, their blood could be on my hands. Rather than drawing my attention to Christ, it turned my attention continually toward my own failures. What made it even more troubling is that I was already one of the most active witnesses in the congregation. Yet no amount of effort seemed enough. There was always another person I could have spoken to, another opportunity I might have missed, another soul I may have failed to warn. So yes, I admit that I feel strongly about this subject. Not because I dislike evangelism, but because I know firsthand the weight of the condemnation such teaching can place upon a tender conscience.
The more I think about this, the more I find myself asking what this teaching assumes about salvation itself. Are we really prepared to say that a sinner’s eternal destiny may ultimately hinge upon the faithfulness of another sinner? God purposes to save, Christ accomplishes redemption, and the Spirit works in power. To suggest that the eternal destiny of a sinner ultimately hinges upon whether another sinner happened to speak at the right moment is a staggering proposition. Whatever Ezekiel 3 may mean, it was never intended to place believers in the role of spiritual lifeguards responsible for who ultimately reaches the shore.
Looking back, I now see that the greatest danger in this kind of teaching was not that it encouraged evangelism, but that it subtly changed the believer’s reference point. Instead of finding peace in what Christ had done, I was continually evaluating what I had done. Instead of resting in His faithfulness, I was measuring my own. The result can be summarized by an ever-increasing awareness of failure, because the standard itself is impossible to satisfy. There is always another conversation that could have been pursued, another warning that could have been given, and another soul that might have been reached. This is why terms such as mutiny, negligence, and blood on our hands carry such weight. They transform evangelism from a joyful declaration of good news into a continual examination of personal responsibility.
But there is another question that deserves consideration. If this interpretation is correct, why do we find so little language like this in the New Testament epistles? The apostles repeatedly encourage believers to speak of Christ, to proclaim the gospel, and to make known the hope that is within them. Yet where do we find them warning churches that the blood of lost men may be upon their hands if they fail to witness? Where do we find believers being told that the eternal destiny of others may rest upon their evangelistic faithfulness?
Perhaps the larger issue is whether salvation ultimately rests in the hands of God or in the hands of men. If salvation is truly of the Lord, then while believers may be privileged to proclaim the gospel, they cannot bear responsibility for accomplishing what only God can do. We may plant and water, but God alone gives the increase. The eternal destiny of sinners rests not upon the faithfulness of the messenger, but upon the purpose and grace of God. For my own part, I have come to find great comfort in the realization that I am not the savior of anyone. I could not save myself, much less another sinner. I can speak of Christ. I can point others to Him. I can pray for those I love. But I utterly reject the notion that God has placed the eternal destiny of other people upon my shoulders. Scripture never presents believers as miniature saviors carrying responsibility for the redemption of those around them.
That realization has not diminished my desire to speak of Christ. Rather, it has delivered me from a form of religious bondage that continually shifts the focus from Christ’s accomplishment to man’s performance. The language of mutiny, negligence, and blood upon our hands may be effective at producing guilt, but guilt is not the gospel, and condemnation is not good news. MPJ