Judgment is Here, Please Pass Out the Beer

Written By Brandon Vaughn, host of Gan TV’s Adventures in Grace. Click HERE to watch.

In a world where “judgment” often conjures images of condemnation and despair, it’s time to reframe this familiar term as a celebration of divine restoration. The Greek word krino—from which we derive “judgment”—originally meant to weigh, measure, or decide, much like when you’re weighing your options before making an important decision. It was never about harsh punishment or eternal damnation, but rather a thoughtful process of evaluation aimed at setting things right.

Imagine a time when the announcement of judgment was met not with fear, but with hope and anticipation. Ancient Israel would not have cowered in the face of judgment; rather, they would break out the party hats, cake, and beer to celebrate: “Finally, the judge is coming! This is wonderful news! The judge is coming to make things right!  It’s time to celebrate and get the party started! Break out the beer!!” This redefined understanding of krino invites us to see judgment as a powerful force for positive change—a moment when every imbalance is measured and restored.

By transforming the narrative around judgment, we uncover a message of hope, renewal, and love that is both timeless and deeply rooted in Scripture. Instead of dreading judgment as a final, grim verdict, we are called to embrace it as an opportunity for divine intervention—a chance to recalibrate, restore, and move forward with clarity and purpose.

Throughout this article, we’ll delve deeper into how this ancient perspective on krino reshapes our modern understanding of judgment. Whether you’re grappling with traditional notions of punishment or seeking a more nuanced, hopeful vision of justice, this journey promises to transform your perspective with warmth, insight, and a touch of irreverent celebration. Get ready to challenge conventional wisdom and see judgment in a whole new light—a process that’s about weighing options, making decisions, and ultimately, embracing the magnificent work of setting everything right.

We invite you to watch Brandon’s 3-Part Gan TV Series What Is Judgement? -> CLICK HERE 

Key Takeaways

• Judgment is a transformative act of divine restoration rather than condemnation.

• Want to know how God understands judgment? Maybe study the book called “Judges”?!

• Psalm 98 turns the concept of judgment into a celebration, where every note sings of renewal and justice.

• Like a skilled surgeon, divine judgment carefully exposes and heals the broken parts of our lives.

• Clement’s early insights remind us that true judgment flows from covenant love and a commitment to rescue the oppressed.

• Even final judgment, when seen through this lens, becomes the ultimate act of transformation rather than a final punishment.

Embracing the Book of Judges: Divine Restoration Over Condemnation

In the pages of the Bible, the Book of Judges stands out as a testament to divine restoration—a vivid reminder that judgment is not about condemnation, but about setting things right. Far from the intimidating image of a stern judge in black robes, the judges of old were revered as heroes. They emerged as liberators in times of crisis, not to condemn, but to rescue a people caught in the snare of injustice and oppression—more like the Avengers than the modern-day image of Judge Judy.

Many today may not realize that a book simply titled “Judges” might be the definitive guide on how God defines judgment. Instead of the usual courtroom drama we imagine, this biblical book presents judgment as a process of restoration, an act of divine repair when society is fractured. When a community falters, divine intervention is not a punishment—it’s a call to renewal. Think of it as a masterful act of repair: just as a skilled craftsman restores a cherished antique, God’s judges stepped in to rectify wrongs and breathe new life into communities torn by sin. Their mission was clear: bring justice and renew hope where despair had taken root.

When you read the book of Judges, you see a repeating story:  Israel seeks to live independently of God (i.e., sin) and this leads them into captivity, Israel remembers God who is in covenant with them, God sends them a judge … why?  To punish them?  They were already living in a self-imposed punishment from their attempts to find their purpose independently of God.  To condemn them?  No, Israel was in the wrong, but the judges God sent didn’t condemn them.  Why did God send judges?

God sent judges to rescue Israel from their captivity.  God’s “judgment” on Israel was in setting them free and putting things to right.  This is the repeating story in Judges.

The beauty of this perspective lies in its celebration of divine covenant. In ancient Israel, the arrival of a judge was met with anticipation and even joy—a stark contrast to the fear often associated with the concept of judgment today. It was a moment when the broken pieces of a society were carefully examined and mended, much like a surgeon skillfully repairs a wounded heart. The judges did not deliver a verdict of final condemnation; instead, they offered a pathway to recovery, a promise of restoration that resonated deeply with the community.

Embracing the lessons of the Book of Judges invites us to rethink modern perceptions of judgment. Rather than seeing divine judgment as a harsh sentence that seals our fate, we can view it as an act of radical love—one that holds a mirror to our shortcomings and guides us toward transformation. In this light, judgment becomes a celebration of restoration, a divine reset button that carries us from brokenness to wholeness.

Celebrating Judgment: How Psalm 98 Sparks a Party of Restoration

Psalm 98 bursts forth with imagery that transforms judgment from a grim pronouncement into a jubilant celebration of divine restoration. In this passage, the psalmist invites us to “sing to the Lord a new song,” a call that redefines judgment as a moment of renewal rather than retribution. Instead of foretelling doom, Psalm 98 paints a picture of creation in full revelry—a world where even the sea is encouraged to “roar,” and all the earth is drawn into a chorus of joy.

¹ O sing to the Lord a new song,
for he has done marvelous things.
His right hand and his holy arm
have gotten him victory.
² The Lord has made known his victory;
he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations.
³ He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness
to the house of Israel.
All the ends of the earth have seen
the victory of our God.
⁴ Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth;
break forth into joyous song and sing praises.
⁵ Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre,
with the lyre and the sound of melody.
⁶ With trumpets and the sound of the horn
make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.
⁷ Let the sea roar and all that fills it,
the world and those who live in it.
⁸ Let the floods clap their hands;
let the hills sing together for joy
⁹ at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming
to judge the earth.
He will judge the world with righteousness
and the peoples with equity.
New Revised Standard Version: Updated Edition (Ps 98:1–9). (Emphasis mine)

Imagine the scene: the trees clapping their hands, the hills rising in song, and the very rivers dancing in celebration. This isn’t a somber reminder of a final reckoning.  This was a party! This was a vibrant party where each note symbolizes the promise of restoration. The ancient believers understood that when God’s judgment comes, it is not to condemn but to set right all that is broken. It’s a divine reset—a moment when the scales of justice are balanced with mercy, and every act of judgment paves the way for healing.

The celebration in Psalm 98 challenges our modern expectations. Instead of associating judgment with fear and punishment, we are invited to see it as an expression of God’s unwavering commitment to renewal. When the psalmist speaks of making “a joyful noise” before the King, it’s as if every natural element is caught up in the excitement of witnessing transformation. This imagery suggests that judgment is intrinsically linked to the act of making all things new—a process that strips away corruption and restores the original beauty of creation.

Moreover, the festive tone of Psalm 98 speaks directly to the heart. It reminds us that true divine judgment is not a cold legal proceeding but a warm, transformative embrace that mends what was once shattered. In celebrating judgment as an act of divine restoration, we begin to see it not as an ominous end but as a promise of new beginnings—a time to gather, reflect, and rejoice in the everlasting hope of renewal.

The Healing Precision of Divine Judgment: A Surgeon’s Insight

Imagine divine judgment as the steady, precise hand of a surgeon—one whose scalpel is not meant to cut out life, but to excise what is broken and pave the way for healing. In our everyday understanding, judgment is often painted as a harsh, final act. Yet, when we view it through the lens of a surgeon’s insight, it transforms into a careful, restorative process designed to mend the wounds of our existence.

Just as a skilled surgeon diagnoses the root of an ailment and performs delicate surgery to remove the diseased tissue, divine judgment examines the very core of our being. It doesn’t come with the intent to condemn but to reveal and repair. The process may be intense—much like the initial sting of a surgical incision—but its purpose is to bring forth renewed life and clarity. Under the surgeon’s light, what was once hidden in the darkness of our brokenness is exposed, assessed, and ultimately restored.

This healing might even be initially intense.  I believe this is why we see such strong words in the Bible (e.g., wailing, gnashing of teeth, lake of fire, and so on).  Like a surgery, even if healing is the ultimate goal, the surgery itself might be intense.

This metaphor of healing precision highlights a critical truth: true judgment is not punitive but transformative. It acts as a divine intervention that illuminates the areas in need of repair, much like a surgeon identifying areas of tissue that require meticulous attention. It’s a reminder that even in our deepest pain, there is a promise of renewal. The precision of divine judgment ensures that every cut, every exposure of our inner flaws, is aimed solely at restoration and balance.

Moreover, this perspective invites us to view our struggles as opportunities for healing. Just as a patient trusts the surgeon’s expertise, we are invited to trust in the compassionate accuracy of divine judgment. It is this same divine hand that not only exposes what is amiss but also empowers us to rebuild and recover. In embracing this view, we see that judgment is less about finality and more about the promise of a healthier, more vibrant existence—an ongoing process of renewal where every incision is the first step toward becoming whole again as part of a resurrected body and a new heaven/earth.

Clement’s Call: Judgment as a Catalyst for Justice and Social Renewal

Clement’s Letter to Rome powerfully echo the timeless words of Isaiah, revealing that true judgment is not about condemnation but about rescue and renewal. In his letter, Clement calls us to “seek justice, rescue the oppressed; give judgment to the fatherless, and justice to the widow.” With our modern understandings, this can sound harsh!  If judgment is about “condemnation”, then why would we want to condemn orphans and widows?

Here, he uses the Greek term krisis—a word that, in its original context, signifies the act of weighing or measuring, not as a means to condemn, but to rescue. Clement is quoting (in Greek) what Isaiah 1 instructs, “learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed; defend the orphan, plead the widow’s cause,” a call to defend those most vulnerable. For both Isaiah and Clement, giving judgment to the orphan is an act of defending rather than a harsh sentence of retribution.

In the early church’s understanding, there was no conflict between judgment and rescue; they were inseparable aspects of divine love. When we “give judgment to the fatherless,” it is not a pronouncement of guilt but a declaration of responsibility—a commitment to stand in solidarity with those who have been marginalized and to restore their dignity. This radical redefinition of judgment transforms what many perceive as an instrument of condemnation into a beacon of hope and justice.

Clement’s call reminds us that our role is not to cast the first stone, but to actively engage in God’s restorative work. Divine judgment, as depicted in his writings, exposes the brokenness of our communities and challenges us to repair it with compassion and courage. It compels us to see that true justice lies in rescuing the oppressed, defending the orphan, and welcoming the widow into a community of care. In this light, judgment becomes a catalyst for social renewal—a call to action that transforms mere criticism into a tangible commitment to healing and restoration.

Thus, through the voices of Clement and Isaiah, we are invited to reframe our understanding of judgment: not as a final verdict of condemnation, but as an ongoing, dynamic process of redemption that renews our commitment to justice and compassion for all.

From Final Judgment to Divine Restoration: Reframing End Times

When we speak of final judgment, many immediately envision an apocalyptic finale filled with condemnation and eternal separation. Yet, when we reframe this concept through the lens of divine restoration, end times become a promise of renewal rather than a verdict of despair. Final judgment, as envisioned in Scripture, is not about sealing our fate with harsh condemnation but about ushering in a new era of balance, healing, and profound transformation.

Throughout the Bible, we see that what has often been labeled as final judgment is, in fact, God’s grand act of making all things right. Rather than a cold final decree, divine judgment is depicted as the culmination of God’s covenant love—a restorative reset button for the cosmos. It is the moment when God, who has patiently borne our imperfections and brokenness, steps in with the authority and compassion to bring about a complete renewal. This perspective invites us to see end times as a time when every injustice is righted, every wound is healed, and all creation is restored to its original beauty.

Scripture uses powerful imagery to illustrate this transformative process. Think of the final judgment not as a scene of cosmic terror, but as the radiant unveiling of a renewed world. It is like the breaking of dawn after a long, dark night—where the light of restoration exposes every shadow of pain, allowing the healing process to begin. Even the harshest pronouncements of “final judgment” become imbued with hope when viewed as the moment when God’s restorative power resets the scales of justice.

This reframing challenges our modern understanding, urging us to embrace a more compassionate and hopeful vision of end times. Instead of fearing the final judgment as the end of all things, we are invited to anticipate a divine intervention that redeems every part of our broken world. It is a promise that the end is not a final destination, but the beginning of a magnificent new creation where justice, mercy, and love are fully restored. In this light, the concept of final judgment transforms into a celebration of God’s unwavering commitment to renewal—a promise that, ultimately, everything will be made new.

Covenant Love and Judgment: Setting Things Right for Today

In a covenant relationship, judgment takes on a whole new dimension—one where love and responsibility intertwine to restore balance. Covenant love transforms judgment from a unilateral pronouncement of condemnation into a shared commitment where both parties bear each other’s burdens. When we enter into a covenant with God, His judgment is not about isolating our faults or condemning us to an endless cycle of punishment. Instead, it becomes a promise of mutual responsibility—a divine agreement where our debts, our failures, and our brokenness are met with an equal measure of grace and accountability.

In this sacred arrangement, every wrong becomes a shared debt. Just as a parent feels the weight of their child’s sorrow, God’s covenant calls Him to experience our pain, our guilt, and our shame. It is as if He declares, “Your struggles are mine as well.” This profound exchange means that our shortcomings do not remain isolated flaws; they are transformed into opportunities for communal healing and restoration. Judgment, under the covenant, is not a process of exclusion or isolation, but one of inclusion and deep relational engagement.

The implications of this redefined judgment are far-reaching. When judgment is rooted in covenant love, it prioritizes restoration over retribution. It acknowledges that no one stands alone in their imperfections—each person’s burden is shared, each failure is met with a loving response aimed at renewal. In this way, judgment ceases to be a distant, impersonal decree and becomes an intimate act of care. It is a commitment to repair broken relationships and to set things right, not through harsh penalties, but through compassionate intervention.

In our daily lives, this perspective encourages us to move away from self-righteousness and to extend empathy and support to others. Instead of measuring one another by our mistakes, we are invited to look deeper—to see the shared debt that binds us together. In a world often fragmented by judgment, covenant love offers a blueprint for reconciliation, where every act of correction is infused with the promise of making everything right.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: How does the strong language used in Scripture about judgment align with the idea of restoration?

A: Picture a parent whose child is about to step into traffic. What do they do? They don’t calmly suggest, “Perhaps you might consider stepping back.” No! They shout, grab the child forcefully, maybe even startle them with the intensity of their reaction. This isn’t anger or punishment—it’s love in emergency mode. Scripture’s strong judgment language works the same way. The forceful warnings, the urgent calls, even the “fire and brimstone” imagery—these represent divine love responding to spiritual emergencies.

Take Jesus in the Temple as a perfect example (Mt 21). When He disrupted the money-changing system and declared, “You’ve made it a den of thieves,” He wasn’t having a temper tantrum. He was performing divine surgery—temporarily halting the sacrificial system while simultaneously welcoming those who had been excluded. His seemingly harsh actions were actually precision instruments of restoration. Think about it: When something has gone profoundly wrong, gentle suggestions rarely bring transformation. If your house is on fire, you need someone to shout “FIRE!”—not whisper polite recommendations about exiting strategies. The strong language in Scripture serves this purpose. It’s meant to wake us up, to cut through our comfortable numbness, to create the necessary disruption that makes space for healing. It’s the spiritual equivalent of a defibrillator—a controlled shock that restarts a heart. So when you encounter seemingly harsh judgment language in Scripture, don’t read it as divine anger but as divine urgency. It’s the language of a love so fierce, so committed to restoration, that it refuses to let us remain comfortable in our brokenness. That’s not something to fear—it’s something to celebrate.

Q: Isn’t final judgment still about punishment?

A: Imagine parents of a murdered child sitting in a courtroom. They watch as the killer receives a life sentence or even execution. Justice served, right? Yet as they drive home, an emptiness remains. The punishment hasn’t truly fixed anything – their child is still gone. The wound still bleeds. This is the limitation of punishment-centered justice, and it helps us understand why final judgment must be so much more. Traditional views often portray final judgment as God’s ultimate punishment party – sinners finally getting what they deserve, offending parties “executed” in hell. But this misses the heart of covenant.

Think about it: if you and I are in covenant and you’re in trouble (even trouble you caused!), I don’t just point fingers – I’m bound to help make things right. God’s final judgment works from this covenant commitment. It’s not simply about punishing wrongdoers but about healing a fractured creation. It’s about answering the cry of those parents driving home from that courtroom – not with punishment, but with true restoration. Consider what making things truly right would require: not just dealing with perpetrators but healing victims (and what if these perpetrators had been formed at the hand of other perpetrators? Would they not be victims too in need of healing?), not just punishing evil but transforming it, not just declaring what’s wrong but making it right. That’s what God promises – a restoration so complete it addresses both the wound and what caused it. Do I understand exactly how this works? Honestly, no. The mechanics of how God makes everything right remain mysterious. But I trust that the Judge who loved us enough to die for us isn’t primarily interested in punishment for its own sake, but in a restoration so complete it will make the whole creation sing. That’s judgment worth celebrating – not because it ignores justice, but because it fulfills it in ways our punishment-obsessed world can barely imagine.

Q: If our sins have been forgiven, then why is there still a final judgment?

A: This confusion stems directly from our Western misunderstanding of judgment as being about condemnation and punishment. If judgment is about determining guilt and assigning penalties, then yes—forgiveness would seem to make judgment unnecessary. But remember how we’ve understood judgment as God’s work of setting things right and bringing proper restoration. With this understanding, forgiveness and judgment work together beautifully. Here’s why: Forgiveness removes us from the Lie that we can find our meaning, purpose, and identity independently of God. But the effects of sin still ripple through creation, through our relationships, and even through our own bodies and minds (i.e., “flesh”).

These effects still need to be set right. Ultimately, this final judgment comes in a resurrected body and a new heaven/earth.  Think of it like this: If I carelessly break your family heirloom, you might genuinely forgive me—restoring our friendship and releasing me from my stumbling goofiness which destroyed your heirloom. But the heirloom is still broken! True restoration means not just forgiving the offense but repairing what was damaged. You don’t need my apology, nor my punishment.  You need your heirloom back!!  This is what final judgment is about—God’s comprehensive work of making everything right that sin has made wrong. It’s about wiping away every tear, healing every wound, and restoring every broken relationship. It’s about transforming creation itself from decay to glory. So rather than contradicting forgiveness, final judgment completes what forgiveness begins. Forgiveness frees us from sin, while judgment restores all that was broken through sin. Together, they form God’s complete answer to the problem of evil—not just pardoning offenses but ultimately making everything right. No wonder creation rejoices at the coming of God’s judgment! Forgiveness is wonderful, but creation longs for the day when everything broken will be made whole again.

Conclusion

In wrapping up, we’ve journeyed through a transformation of judgment back to how the ancient world understood it—a process that transforms condemnation into celebration, pain into healing, and isolation into covenant love. From the heroic narratives in the Book of Judges and the jubilant scenes of Psalm 98 to the precise, restorative interventions likened to a surgeon’s care, each perspective reminds us that divine judgment is ultimately about setting things right.

It’s not a cold final decree, but a warm invitation to join in God’s promise of renewal, where every debt is shared and every broken piece is restored. This redefined understanding calls us to embrace our imperfections, extend compassionate support to others, and trust that even the harshest moments of judgment are opportunities for profound transformation. In this light, judgment is not a reason for fear, but a compelling call to celebrate the ongoing work of divine restoration in our lives.