Yung Suk Kim
Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity
Samuel DeWitt Proctor School of Theology
Virginia Union University
4/1/2026
This article was also posted on Stone Mountain Consulting and Research.
It is with a heart full of gratitude that I am here today. I want to begin by thanking God – for who I am, for what I have been blessed to do, and for what I am yet to become. My journey over the past two decades has been rich, filled with teaching, research, community engagement, and many other endeavors. I don't see my teaching or my publications as mere academic exercises; for me, they are profound means of communicating God's good news to a wider world.
As I reflect on this journey, I define myself as a critical, yet imaginative and visionary scholar. More profoundly, I see myself as a child of God, a follower of Jesus, a seeker of truth, and a lover—of myself, of people, of nature, and ultimately, of God. This focus on the self might seem counterintuitive at first, but it is vitally important. I care deeply about who I am, just as much as I care about others. This is not about self-focused belief. It is about my critical questioning of myself, others, and God. What is God? What is Jesus? What does it truly mean to believe?
Through years of seeking, teaching, and research, I have come to a realization: If I do not believe in myself, then there is no God with me. I have always tried to sense and feel God with me. More than that, I also have asked: Where is God in our society and community?
My protesting scholarship has led me to produce over 20 books and edit four volumes. Currently, I am working on the edited volume, Rethinking Paul: Critical Conversations for Our World. Over the next five years, I will be able to author a dozen more books, moving into a more interdisciplinary focus. That is, I am very much interested in the intersection of biblical studies, cognitive science, and mental health.
Yet, amidst this productivity, I always check my time and sense the reality of impermanence. Everything and every person is short-lived. None of us will stay here forever. We all change. Everything changes. If there's one constant in this existence, it's the fact that change is our only constant. We live through ups and downs, ebbs and flows. So, for me, one lens I wear to read scripture is the value of today.
And if I had to distill my entire scholarship, my entire philosophy, into one single word, it would be this: Transformation. But what is transformation? How do we achieve it? For me, it means finding an authentic self in deep connection with God and others. We frequently discuss societal changes, yet we seldom delve into our own transformation in a truly deep, holistic sense. Perhaps the most vital question we can ask ourselves is: “What am I?” Each of us is a small universe, a unique creation of God, and an unknowable mystery waiting to be explored.
The core of transformation lies in the concept of justice.
So, what is justice? At its most fundamental, justice is simply asking: “What is the right thing to do?” To live a life of meaningful change, we must genuinely know what is good and right. Justice, in this expansive sense, touches every single aspect of human life. In my recent book, Justice and the Parables of Jesus: Interpreting the Gospel Stories through Political Philosophy, I explored the sheer complexity of this concept, identifying at least ten types of justice.
We speak of Distributive Justice, acknowledging the need for a fair distribution of income and resources.
There is Attributive Justice, where hard work should indeed earn its due reward.
Procedural Justice ensures transparency and fairness in our systems.
And profoundly, we address Social Justice when discrimination impacts our communities, or Racial Justice as we confront the deep hurt caused by racism.
Furthermore, we seek Restorative Justice when individuals need to be healed and returned to wholeness after injury, or Compensatory Justice to remedy financial burdens due to wrongs.
And recognizing our interconnected world, Global Justice calls for global solutions to global issues, while Environmental Justice compels us to create a cohabitating environment for all creation.
This demonstrates that justice is not a single idea; it's a tapestry woven through every aspect of our existence.
Indeed, my understanding of justice goes even deeper. For me, it has a profound theological root. Justice—whether we speak of mišpāṭ in Hebrew or dikaiosyne in Greek—is not just a social construct. It is, in fact, a derivative of righteousness (tsedaqah in the Hebrew Bible), which fundamentally belongs to God. It is about God and God’s character.
Throughout the Old Testament, in Jesus’s teachings, and in Paul’s letters, the fundamental truth is that God is righteous. And what does God's righteousness mean? It means God’s steadfast love, God’s unwavering faithfulness, God’s protective hand, God’s discerning judgment, and the boundless extension of love for all—regardless of who they are. In Matthew 5, Jesus clearly says that God is impartial for all. God sends rain and sunshine to all, good and bad.
This understanding clarifies Jesus’s mission: it was to fulfill God’s righteousness. The call to us, then, is clear: Because God is so loving and so faithful, we, as people, should live lives worthy of God’s righteousness, following the example of Jesus.
When there is no justice, the prophets cried out for justice in society. Amos roars in 5:24: "But let justice roll down like water, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."
We tend to overlook just how profoundly Jesus and Paul centered their teachings on justice.
Jesus’s primary mission was to bring heaven down to earth—and specifically, to those who suffer and struggle because of injustices. He did not proclaim the "good news of the emperor" or some human master; he proclaimed the "good news of God." This good news was not just a hopeful thought or heavenly things apart from here; it was about a new reality, a new time, a new rule, and a new life rooted in a fundamental change of thought, as we see in Mark 1:14-15: “After John was arrested, Jesus began to proclaim the good news of God; saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; Change your mind, and believe in the good news.”
In Mark, the central theme is God’s good news. Jesus demonstrated it through his words and deeds. What he did—his actions, his engagement with the world—constitutes the good news. So, it is the good news of Jesus Christ.
Paul, too, illuminates the importance of the good news of God. As he writes in Romans 3:22, the good news is that God’s righteousness has been manifested through Jesus’s faithfulness for all who participate in him. This "good news" didn't originate with Jesus or Paul. It is deeply rooted in God’s story of Abraham in Genesis 12, promised beforehand through the prophets. Paul understood his own apostleship as being set apart precisely for this "good news of God" (Romans 1:1). It is a story of grace and promise that extends through all time.
In the Gospel stories, parables are the best source for justice teaching. In fact, parables are not used for strengthening people’s faith; the opposite is the case. They are told by Jesus to break people’s normative thinking, habits, and behaviors. They are subversive stories.
Let us look at several parables.
Consider The Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard. Here, the emphasis is not on strict hourly wage, but on the landowner’s atypical behavior, which champions distributive justice. The radical point is that all workers need a basic income to survive, regardless of the precise hours they have worked. It challenges our conventional notions of fairness or justice.
Then there is The Parable of the Talents. This is not simply about financial investment. The issue here is our work ethic, how we use our time, our gifts, our innate abilities. Jesus’s challenge to the one-talent person is not because they made no profit, but because they made no trial, no effort to use what they were given. It speaks to our responsibility to act.
Finally, let us look at The Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds. This parable beautifully addresses procedural justice and challenges society’s logic that evil people should be removed immediately from their community. The challenge of this parable is that even those we perceive as "evil" or "bad" are given an opportunity to change, to transform. Premature or impatient judgment—uprooting the weeds too early—is explicitly not recommended. We need patience and grace. In a sense, do not we all have both wheat and weeds in our own minds, our own characters, at the same time? Can you truly destroy parts of yourself just to remove the perceived "weeds"? This parable teaches us to allow for growth, to cultivate patience, and to embrace the ongoing process of transformation, both in ourselves and in the world around us.
This scholarly journey, rooted in gratitude and defined by transformation, justice, and God's righteousness, is one I am honored to share with you.