One God, two Testaments, and a mercy we tend to overlook
Divine Violence in the Old Testament
It is not easy to resist the temptation to reject the Old Testament because of its image of a God of wrath and violence, especially when compared to the God of tenderness and love in the New Testament. The two images seem so radically opposed that one wonders if the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are the same.
A closer look, however, reveals that the New Testament is not devoid of harsh statements. Paul tells the Romans that “the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness” (Romans 1:18), and urges them to leave room for that wrath, for “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord” (Romans 12:19). Jesus himself is not exempt. He promised the cities of Galilee a fate worse than that of Tyre and Sidon, two pagan cities that the prophets held up as archetypes of sin: “It will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you,” and Capernaum “will be brought down to Hades” (Luke 10:13–15).
Yet these words hardly diminish our perception of a merciful God. Either we think such statements are few compared to the expressions of mercy, or we simply accept them as divine justice. After all, isn’t God supposed to punish sinners? But then, if the God of Jesus deals justly with the wicked, why would we not accept that the same God dealt justly with his people in the Old Testament, especially in the prophetic books? Is it because the images are so cruel, so devastating? The LORD “rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire” (Genesis 19:24); he tells Amos that those who are left “I will kill with the sword; not one of them shall escape” (Amos 9:1). Or is it because the judgment is collective and seems to spare no one? Micah announces to Jerusalem that “you shall sow, but not reap” (Micah 6:15), and Jeremiah sees the land “waste and void,” its mountains quaking, its birds fled, “all its cities laid in ruins before the LORD, before his fierce anger” (Jeremiah 4:23–26).
Note that the prophets were careful to stress the universality of sin in order to “justify” this justice: “They are all adulterers” (Hosea 7:4); “there is no one left who is upright” (Micah 7:2); “You have all rebelled against me” (Jeremiah 2:29).
But where does this cruelty come from? What is the origin of this universality of sin and punishment? On the one hand, sin, idolatry especially, was thought to be contagious: by sacrificing to idols, the Israelites believed they had contracted impurities that affected the entire land. “Israel is defiled,” says the God of Hosea (6:10). On the other hand, the prophets interpreted the events of their time according to their concept of God. Yahweh was the national God of the Jewish people, both their protector and their judge, and everything that happened to the people was attributed to him. When disasters loomed, they saw the hand of God punishing his people: “Against a godless nation I send him [Assyria]” (Isaiah 10:6); “I am going to bring upon you a nation from far away, O house of Israel” (Jeremiah 5:15). Since catastrophes make no distinction between the righteous and the unrighteous, these authors spoke of collective sin.
As for the harshness of the language, there is certainly the horrific reality of war, but also the pedagogical purpose of hyperbole. Such language was probably more effective, at the time, in shaking listeners into repentance than a restrained tone. Jesus does the same when he advises his disciples to tear out their eyes or cut off their hands to avoid falling into sin (Matthew 5:29–30).
Finally, to be exhaustive about Old Testament violence of divine origin, there are the oracles against the enemies of Israel and the war narratives in which God fights alongside his people, sometimes leading the battle himself: “Do not lose heart, or be afraid… for it is the LORD your God who goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies” (Deuteronomy 20:3-4); “the LORD thundered with a mighty voice that day against the Philistines” (1 Samuel 7:10). Here Yahweh acts as protector rather than judge, but the same theological context applies.
Does this mean that the Old Testament is devoid of words of mercy? Not at all, but these words are largely overlooked.
Divine Mercy in the Old Testament
First, there are the numerous warnings meant to prevent punishment. Announcements of judgment, however severe, are implicit calls to repentance, but there are also many explicit appeals. “In returning and rest you shall be saved,” says the God of Isaiah, “but you refused” (Isaiah 30:15). “Return, faithless Israel… I will not look on you in anger, for I am merciful” (Jeremiah 3:12). “Return to the LORD, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing” (Joel 2:13). Yahweh will not be angry forever (Jeremiah 3:12); he “waits to be gracious” (Isaiah 30:18), hoping his people will learn from past disasters that renewing their relationship with him is vital (Hosea 5:15).
But “the people did not turn to him who struck them” (Isaiah 9:13). So Yahweh was “compelled” to correct them, sometimes with tears (Jeremiah 14:17), only to regret it afterwards: “Though I have afflicted you, I will afflict you no more” (Nahum 1:12). Isaiah goes further: “For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with great compassion I will gather you,” and he recalls the oath made to Noah, and through him to all mankind: “I have sworn that I will not be angry with you and will not rebuke you” (Isaiah 54:7–9).
A God who regrets having made his people suffer. A God who promises never to let them suffer again. A God who shows everlasting love even after punishing severely. But there is more: some passages show God abandoning his decision to punish, without preconditions or repentance. “How can I give you up, Ephraim? … My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger… for I am God and no mortal” (Hosea 11:8–9). “I, I am He who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isaiah 43:25).
A God of pure grace, then, who loves his people like a cherished son (Jeremiah 31:20), like a spouse he is willing to win back despite her betrayals: “I will now allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her” (Hosea 2:14). And the most beautiful expression of divine love in the Old Testament, to my mind, is this: “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you”(Isaiah 49:15).
Thus, the Old Testament has nothing to envy the New Testament in terms of divine mercy. What is remarkable is that its authors were able to perceive and express this mercy with such depth, even though they were shaped by the violent culture of their time and had not yet experienced the full revelation of the God of love in Christ.
This article is part of the series “From the book,” adapted from Questions and Misconceptions about the Bible (WestBow Press, 2026).