Reparations From Egypt? (A Thought Experiment on Justice)

My post started: “Is it too late for God’s chosen people to file for reparations from Egypt? Asking for a friend.” 😅

First—this was not me trying to be snarky. It was a thought experiment. I was trying to think through the reparations conversation principally, by stepping outside our current political script and asking: What does justice look like when the crime is real, massive, and historic—but time has passed and society has changed?

1) The “Egypt” thought experiment (tongue-in-cheek, but serious underneath)

I believe God will ultimately hold every nation accountable—in this life or the next.

And I did not say God “ignored” injustice. God doesn’t shrug at oppression.

In the Exodus, He confronted a state-backed system—Pharaoh’s regime—humbled it, and delivered His people (Exodus 3:7–8). That’s a biblical pattern: when injustice is institutional, accountability is institutional. Authorities are answerable to God for how they wield power and how they correct wrongs (Romans 13:3–4; Isaiah 10:1–2; Proverbs 31:8–9).

Israel wasn’t just told, “Sorry that happened.” God delivered them. God restored them. And in that story, they didn’t leave empty-handed (Exodus 12:35–36).

So the question I was poking at is this:

If oppression happened centuries ago, is it morally coherent to demand economic reparations today from the modern people and institutions living in the same geographic space as the historic oppressor? Or does time change how justice can be pursued—morally, legally, and practically? Is there any concept of a “statute of limitations,” and if so, what would it be grounded in?

I’m not pretending ancient Israel gives us a plug-and-play modern policy template. I’m saying: if we claim to care about justice, we should be willing to test our logic under different scenarios.

2) A reality we forget when we talk about Egypt: Pharaoh’s wealth came from centralized power

Pharaoh didn’t become rich because he was a genius entrepreneur. He became rich because the state became a funnel.

Historically, kings accumulated wealth through centralized control: taxation, control of land and labor, conquest, and policies that concentrated resources at the top.

And the biblical storyline itself shows a form of that centralization: during the famine, Joseph’s administration resulted in land being consolidated under Pharaoh (Genesis 47:13–26). Later, in Exodus, we see forced labor and burdens imposed at the state level (Exodus 1:11–14).

Meaning: Egypt’s oppressive system didn’t only crush the Hebrews. It also burdened ordinary Egyptians with heavy demands under a regime that was expanding power, production, and control.

So when God judged Pharaoh, He judged a ruler and a system—not “random civilians who had no say.” He broke the machine at the top.

That matters for what we’re debating today, because it clarifies something important: justice is supposed to aim at the guilty and the system of harm—without creating new victims.

3) Bringing that forward: American slavery and the “time and scope” problem

Now, applying these patterns to American slavery requires honesty.

Slavery was enforced by law for generations (ending in 1865), and it was followed by Jim Crow and other discriminatory systems. So yes—there were institutional wrongs, and institutions should be accountable. I’m not minimizing that. God doesn’t minimize oppression.

But here’s where I struggle:

Accountability and repair do not automatically mean massive modern cash payouts to people centuries removed from the original crime—especially if the proposal fractures the nation, cripples the economy, and creates a fresh wave of grievance, backlash, and moral resentment.

Justice doesn’t “create a new injustice to fix an old one.” God is impartial (Acts 10:34–35), and Scripture repeatedly warns against perverting justice—whether by favoritism or by punishing the wrong people (Leviticus 19:15; Proverbs 24:23; Deuteronomy 16:19–20).

And Scripture is also explicit about personal accountability: people are not to be punished for crimes they did not commit (Deuteronomy 24:16; Ezekiel 18:20).

So I’m trying to hold two things at once:

• The evil was real, and it was systemic.

• The “solution” cannot become a new systemic injustice that punishes people indiscriminately or destabilizes society.

  
  

4) Scale matters: the $1,000,000 thought experiment (purely speculative)

This isn’t me arguing “for” or “against” any one proposal—this is simply to show scale.

Thought experiment: What if every Black American received $1,000,000?

My quick search said the Black “alone” population in 2024 was about 51.6 million. That’s roughly $52 TRILLION total.

To put that in perspective:

• U.S. annual GDP is about $31.1T → this would be about 1.7× the entire economy’s yearly output.

• Federal spending in FY2025 was about $7.01T → this is like 7+ years of total federal spending.

• Total federal debt (Q3 2025) was about $37.6T → this payout is bigger than the debt.

• The money supply (Dec 2025) — the broad measure of spendable money — was about $22.4T → this payout is more than 2× that.

And how it’s paid for changes everything:

Raise taxes that much → huge economic shock, major political backlash, likely recession.Borrow that much → debt explodes, interest rates likely surge, mortgages and business loans get crushed.Print/monetize that much → serious risk of massive inflation, especially housing, cars, and services as too many dollars chase limited supply.

What you’d probably see right away:

• Some people would pay off debt, relocate, invest, start businesses (good).

• But you’d also see:

  • spikes in prices,

  • rate hikes,

  • a chaotic scramble in housing and big-ticket goods,

  • and a national-level social conflict we’d struggle to control.

So my point is simple: some proposals aren’t just expensive—they’re destabilizing. Done all at once, at that scale, it could shake markets and daily life in ways none of us could control.

That’s why I think the push for giant, broad, one-time payout models—especially framed in strictly racial terms—often becomes destructive. Not because the past wasn’t evil, but because the proposed “fix” can create a new crisis and new injustices.

5) A Christian lens: truth, repentance, forgiveness… and lived-out repair

As a Christian, I don’t dismiss the pain behind the reparations conversation. Scripture calls us to truth, justice, and neighbor-love.

Where there are specific, provable wrongs, restitution can be right. The Bible clearly has categories for restitution and restoration.

But “real justice” also starts with something deeper than money:

• calling sin what it is,

• turning from it,

• seeking forgiveness,

• and living out repentance in how we treat people now.

The hard truth is: we’re also a secular society, and a secular government may never repent the way Scripture defines repentance. Even when apologies happen, they can become hollow—more about optics or pacifying anger than moral transformation. That’s why Christians can’t anchor hope in government statements alone. We’re called to practice justice and neighbor-love in real life, even when politics is messy.

6) The principles I’m trying to hold (and where Scripture shapes them)

Here’s the principle I’m trying to hold:

“Justice without wisdom becomes a zeal that forgets love.”That’s drawn from the warning against zeal without knowledge (Romans 10:2), the call to let love govern our actions (1 Corinthians 13:1–2), and the reminder that human anger doesn’t produce God’s righteousness (James 1:19–20).

And this one:

“It’s like insisting on collecting a debt in a way that bankrupts your neighbor.”Scripture is clear that even when obligations are real, God’s people must not crush others in the process: don’t exploit the poor (Exodus 22:25; Leviticus 25:35–37), don’t oppress your neighbor (Proverbs 14:31; Zechariah 7:10), don’t grind the face of the poor (Isaiah 3:14–15), and remember mercy matters when judgment becomes merciless (James 2:13).

The point isn’t “ignore what’s owed.”The point is: pursue what’s right without destroying people to do it.

7) Targeted restitution vs. open-ended blank checks

There’s a meaningful difference between:

• Targeted restitution (documented harm, identifiable victims, defined remedy, time-bound program), and

• Open-ended collective payouts (unclear eligibility, unclear responsibility, potentially permanent grievance politics).

A more appropriate comparison than “Egypt” might be cases where people can point to a specific harm with a definable remedy—things like wrongful convictions, documented property seizure, verified discrimination cases, etc. Those are hard, but at least they can be adjudicated in ways that aim at truth rather than group blame.

Broad race-based payouts generations later are different. They quickly become:

• “Who exactly qualifies?”

• “Who exactly pays?”

• “How do you avoid fraud or endless expansion?”

• “How do you stop it from becoming permanent political leverage?”

• “How do you prevent new resentment and backlash?”

Those aren’t heartless questions. They’re questions of justice and feasibility.

8) Another reality: many Americans want equality, not “more for some”

I honestly don’t know many fair-minded people today who don’t want equal opportunity for everyone.

What I don’t support is replacing equality with “more for some,” because that usually creates new resentments and new injustices. The moment the framework becomes “collective guilt” and “permanent group claims,” it’s hard to build trust or unity.

And it’s also worth remembering: Black Americans weren’t the only people mistreated in America’s story. Plenty of others have suffered too—including many of my own Scots-Irish / Appalachian ancestors and other poor working-class communities who were exploited, trapped in cycles of debt, and held down by powerful systems (company towns, predatory labor arrangements, and so on). That doesn’t erase the uniqueness of chattel slavery—it just reminds me that America has a long history of injustice in multiple forms, and we need solutions that don’t turn one group into an eternal enemy class.

My goal is simple: equal rights, equal protection, equal opportunity—for everybody.

9) Why working together is the only way forward

Between you and me, this has to be rooted in Christ. If we’re in Him, I’m committed to loving you as my neighbor and friend—and I trust you’d extend that same grace to me. That’s our conviction even when the broader culture doesn’t share it, and even when the Church has sometimes struggled to live it out as faithfully as we should.

I’m glad when people say this isn’t ultimately about money, because from where I sit, a lot of public rhetoric can sound like it collapses into dollars and demands—and that can drown out deeper goals like truth, repentance, reconciliation, and equal opportunity.

I also think we have to be honest about how modern culture has shifted the ground under a lot of people—including many men, and especially many working-class white men—who feel blamed, sidelined, or written off. Whether those feelings are always justified or not, they’re real. And if the conversation keeps assigning collective guilt to “white people” as a category, it will harden hearts and push people toward resentment instead of repair.

The only way forward is together: telling the truth about sin, rejecting scapegoating, insisting on equal dignity and equal opportunity, and doing the slow, faithful work of building trust and strengthening communities side by side.

10) What I mean by “lift all boats” — targeted help + accountability (need-based, not skin-based)

I’m all for lifting all boats, and I think the best way to do that in America is targeted help + real accountability, based on need, not skin color.

If one community is statistically struggling more, it will naturally receive more support through need-based efforts—without turning race into a permanent cultural struggle or political caste system.

Here’s what I mean by lift-all-boats:

Education that works

• early reading help (because if kids can’t read by 3rd grade, everything gets harder)

• tutoring where scores are lowest

• strong career/trade paths

• apprenticeships tied to real jobs

• transparency so money follows results, not bureaucracy

Homeownership & wealth-building

• down-payment / closing-cost help for first-time buyers based on income

• credit repair and financial coaching

• policies that increase housing supply so working families aren’t priced out

Work + savings

• wage supports that reward work (not permanent dependency)

• matched savings programs for low-income families

• fewer barriers to trades and small business starts

Fund what works

• measure outcomes: graduation rates, job placement, neighborhood safety, ownership

• scale successful programs

• cut what doesn’t work

To me, equality means fair rules and equal protection for everyone. “Equity” framed as guaranteed equal outcomes often requires endless redistribution and quotas—and that tends to breed resentment and lower standards over time. I’d rather pursue equal opportunity with targeted dollars and clear results, so more families thrive and we heal together.

11) Closing: God is just—so pursue justice without destroying the community

God judged Egypt. God also judged Israel when Israel became unjust (2 Kings 17; 2 Chronicles 36). That’s sobering: God holds nations accountable—in this life and the next. But biblical justice aims at righteousness, order, and restoration—not revenge, division, or economic self-destruction.

So my lane is: truth + justice + mercy… without burning the house down to fix the foundation.