Be loving, but don't be a doormat.

Turn the other cheek.

Wise words by Jesus Christ Himself. He was passive, tolerant, nice, kind who was ok with everybody. He wore a white cloak with a red sash. He was a nice white guy with a beard and long flowing hair and always carried a little lamb on his shoulders. Right?

So Christians should be willing to just lay on the ground while someone beats them up and not fight back or defend in anyway because, that’s not what Jesus would have done right?

Turn the other cheek as laid out in Matthew, always made me squirm a little bit growing up. Something about it just seemed...too capitulatory.

If someone wrongs me or hurts me, I’m supposed to do nothing? Someone slaps you on one cheek as form of insult or slight, and you’re supposed to turn the other cheek and let them slap that other one too.

It feels self-degrading. Now when I was growing up, I thought it meant one of two things:

1. You are allowing someone to hurt you and then forgive them like Jesus did on the cross for the sins of humanity.
2. By letting someone slap you on the other cheek, you’re saying that you are above their ability to harm them.

As I got older, I realized this: Some people are just plain evil and sadistic and don’t care whether you forgive them or not. Even if you consider yourself above their ability to hurt you, they still slapped you and got pleasure out of it.

This is not want Jesus meant in Matthew 5:39.

In Jesus’ day, there was a massive difference between how you struck someone depending on their social status. And this completely changes what Jesus was actually saying.

A backhand slap wasn’t just a slap. It was how you struck someone beneath you. A slave, a servant, someone you considered inferior. It was an assertion of dominance, a physical reminder of hierarchy. An open-palm slap, on the other hand, was what you used against an equal. Same physical act, completely different social meaning.

“if someone strikes you on the right cheek,” he’s being very specific. Think about it: if someone is right-handed and strikes you on your right cheek, they’re backhanding you. The insult isn’t just the sting of the blow, it’s the declaration that you’re beneath them, that you’re not even worth hitting like a person.

So when Jesus says “turn the other cheek,” he’s not saying “be a doormat.” He’s saying something far more subversive: require them to acknowledge you as an equal.

If you turn and present your left cheek, your aggressor now has a problem. They can either backhand you with their left hand, which is awkward, weak, and strips away the power of the gesture, or they have to use their right hand open-palmed. And an open palm means they’re treating you as an equal in the conflict.

In Roman society, a backhanded slap from a superior to an inferior was not only not blinked at it was considered necessary. If you slapped someone with an open palm, then it was serious, you may have to give reason as to why you slapped an equal.

It’s not submission. It’s resistance. It’s saying, “I refuse to accept your claim that I’m beneath you.”

All those years I thought it meant passively accepting humiliation, when really it was about asserting your dignity in the face of someone trying to strip it away. Jesus wasn’t teaching doormat Christianity. He was teaching defiant equality.

In other words boundaries.

You’re essentially saying, “either treat me as an equal or take a hike.”

Back in January we saw this played out when protestors interrupted a church service in Minnesota, calling out members for not being “Christian enough.” The protestors were trying to place themselves above the churchgoers morally, the modern equivalent of a backhand. The churchgoers had every right to stand firm and say, “We don’t accept your authority to judge us,” rather than accepting that assertion of superiority.

But here’s where it gets trickier: what about paternalism?

Paternalism is the softer, kinder version of the backhand. It’s still asserting the same hierarchy, “I’m above you, I know better, you need me to correct you”, but it wraps itself in concern and affection.

“I’m only telling you this because I care about you.”

“You’re making a mistake and I can’t stand by and watch you hurt yourself.”

“I’m doing this for your own good.”

These phrases feel benevolent. But structurally, they’re making the exact same claim as the backhand: I have the right to judge you and correct you. The difference is that when someone backhands you, you know it’s hostile. When someone paternalizes you, it feels like rejection to push back.

This is especially difficult when the person has no official authority over you but you care about. When it’s a peer, a friend, a family member who’s appointed themselves your moral guardian without your consent. Now they’re not just asserting superiority. They’re demanding you accept it and be grateful for it.

But you still need to turn the other cheek. Not in the doormat sense. In the equality sense.

Say, “I don’t accept your authority to correct me. Either treat me as an equal or take a hike.”

The paternalist will call you defensive, say you can’t handle feedback, accuse you of pride. But what they’re really upset about is that you refused their hierarchy. You forced them to either engage as an equal or reveal that what they wanted wasn’t to help you—it was to be above you.

I’ve seen this happen when a leftist politician interviews a more conservative person in a roundtable like discussion. There’s not a bunch of yelling and screaming like you might see on the street. It’s framed as genuine concern for a wrong view.

I’ve seen it in churches. A leader may consider a difference of opinion on secondary doctrine to be “in need of loving correction” at best or “dangerous and divisive” at worst. The reality of being brothers in Christ goes out the window.

They claim to offer an open palm, genuine dialogue, shared concern, equality. But they’re delivering a backhand. They’re asserting superiority through “correction,” just with a smile and the language of care. This is how paternalism operates in the modern world. It disguises the backhand as an open palm, which is precisely why it’s so effective and so insidious.

So how can we catch paternalism in media, culture or our own lives?

Recognizing the Backhand Disguised as Care

Listen to the language. An equal asks permission; a paternalist announces authority and assumes the right to override your autonomy.

Watch how they respond to boundaries. An equal accepts your decision; a paternalist escalates and treats your boundary as evidence you’re broken or defensive.

Check the directional flow. If they dish out “loving feedback” but bristle at correction from you, that’s hierarchy—they’re the teacher, you’re the student.

Notice the emotional aftermath. Paternalism leaves you feeling small and guilty, not because the argument was compelling, but because the framing was designed to make you feel inferior.

The “you’re not listening” accusation. When you disagree, they reframe your autonomy as a character flaw—what they really mean is you’re not submitting.

Pattern recognition matters. One paternalistic moment might be accidental, but a consistent pattern of positioning themselves as the one who knows better reveals intentional hierarchy, not care.

How to Respond Without Guilt

Set a clear boundary. Keep it simple and firm, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m making my own decision”, without justifying or defending yourself.

When they push back, hold firm. Their discomfort with your boundary is not your problem to fix.

Understand that boundaries are not unkind. Kindness does not require submission; you can care about someone and still refuse to let them treat you as inferior.

Recognize the emotional manipulation. When they say you’re defensive or can’t handle feedback, don’t take the bait. You’re being clear, not defensive.

Know when to disengage. If someone refuses to respect your boundary, you don’t owe them continued engagement.

The point of “turn the other cheek” was never to let someone beat you into submission. It was to refuse the hierarchy they were trying to impose. The same applies here. You’re not being mean. You’re not being ungrateful. You’re asserting your dignity. You’re saying, “Treat me as an equal, or this conversation is over.”

And if they can’t do that? That tells you everything you need to know about what they actually wanted.

Now, let me be clear, this doesn’t mean rejecting all feedback or living isolated. Equals can and should speak truth to one another with humility and consent. But it does mean refusing one-way authority games dressed up as love.

Real love means someone can put their hand on your shoulder as an equal, not slap you across the face while calling it care.

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