By commuting every death sentence in California, Gov. Gavin Newsom made a difficult but right decision. As a pastor, I do not say that lightly. I know this moment carries pain for many families whose lives were shattered by violence. Yet confronting a broken system and stepping away from executions is a moral responsibility.
We must begin with those who have lost loved ones to violence. Nothing about this decision erases their grief. Nothing lessens the horror of what was done. Violence creates wounds that can last a lifetime and ripple through generations. The question before us is not whether that pain is real, but how our society responds to it.
If we are serious about honoring victims, we must also ask what actually helps families heal. Trauma has a long life. We have proven tools to help address it—mental health care, counseling, and community support for victims and their families. Too often those resources remain underfunded while the legal system focuses its energy on decades-long death penalty appeals that rarely bring resolution.
Clemency does not mean innocence or release. Those whose sentences have been commuted will remain accountable for the harm they caused. What has changed is not the seriousness of their crimes, but the state’s decision not to carry out executions through a system that has long been error-prone, ineffective, and marked by deep inequities.
For decades, California has maintained the largest death row in the country, yet it has not carried out an execution in more than twenty years. Many people have spent decades awaiting a punishment that never came, trapped in a legal system stalled by backlogs and uncertainty. Over time, the system has been shadowed by troubling realities: racial disparities in sentencing, cases involving mental illness or intellectual disability, and the ever-present risk of wrongful conviction.
Whatever one’s position on capital punishment in theory, the system we have operated in practice is broken. Commuting these sentences acknowledges reality: most of these executions were never going to occur. It brings honesty to sentencing and names these punishments for what they truly are—life imprisonment.
Executive clemency exists for precisely such moments. It is not a denial of justice. It is a recognition that when a system is flawed at its foundation, continuing to promise an irreversible punishment only deepens the injustice.
As an Evangelical Christian, my faith shapes how I think about these questions. I believe in the sanctity of life. That conviction means more than defending life in one narrow context; it calls us to recognize that every human being bears the image of God, including those who have committed terrible acts.
Scripture reminds us that mercy and justice are not enemies. The book of James tells us that “mercy triumphs over judgment.” That does not erase accountability. It reminds us that justice is not measured solely by severity. At the cross, Christians see both the seriousness of sin and the radical depth of mercy. We are called to hold those truths together.
This perspective invites us to imagine justice more fully—as restoration, as the pursuit of healing, what the Bible calls shalom. Justice must protect society, hold people accountable for their actions, and create space for redemption.
California has chosen a path that reflects this truth: we do not honor life by taking another.
Public safety remains essential. Those who have committed grave crimes will remain incarcerated. But the state is no longer binding victims’ families to a legal process that can drag on for decades. We are no longer asking correctional officers to carry out executions. We are no longer asking governors to sign death warrants. And we are no longer defending a punishment that cannot be undone if we are wrong.
Research has also made clear that the death penalty fails to deliver what it promises. It does not deter crime more effectively than other punishments. It is extraordinarily expensive, arbitrary in its application, and too often shaped by geography, race, and access to legal resources. In the end, it does not provide the safety or healing that many hope it will.
My own proximity to the system—through my wife’s role as a witness in a death penalty case—only deepened my conviction about these truths. Watching the process unfold revealed something sobering: the death penalty does not bring closure, healing, or true accountability. It prolongs pain and offers a promise of justice that the system rarely fulfills.
At this moment, we mourn with those who mourn. We pray for families whose wounds are still raw. And we acknowledge that clemency is not softness. It is moral restraint. It is the recognition that even in the face of terrible harm, the state does not need to take a life to uphold the law.
As people of faith, we believe redemption is possible. We believe no human being is beyond the reach of God. And we believe that justice, at its best, protects society while leaving room for mercy.
California has taken a difficult step. May we meet it with sobriety, compassion, and a renewed commitment to care for victims, pursue justice, and seek peace for all whose lives have been marked by violence.
Michael Mata serves as the Associate Pastor for Community Affairs at Los Angeles First Church of the Nazarene and is the former coordinator for World Vision’s church-based community and congregational development efforts in Los Angeles.