justice // trust

I am a confrontational person. As much as I hate to admit it, that can get me into all kinds of trouble. I jump to the defense of people I care about, I jump to the defense of unjust action, and I LEAP to the defense of myself.

So, the fact that I can do nothing to provide justice for a particularly sharp hurt in my life eats at me.

I think constantly about how badly I wish I had reported it, how I wish I could tell her, how I wish I had stood up for myself, how i wish I had said something when I saw him, and on and on. This obsession even enters my mind in my sleep. I have had numerous dreams of what I want so so desperately: justice. That justice looks, to me, like consequences for the action. It looks like him having to feel the hurt he has caused me for so long because of what he did to me.

But what does it look like to God?

It looks like rich in mercy, slow to anger. It looks like forgiveness. It looks like the prodigal son. It looks like the criminal on the cross.

Justice is not mine to say, and consequences are not mine to divy to who I think does or doesn’t deserve them. I am a weak, angry, hurt human. But my God... my God is a strong, gentle, patient, merciful God. He is also a God with a plan that is divine and far beyond my imagination. He has woven all things together for good for those who love him, and all we have to do is trust.

“Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”

Romans 8:28 MSG

I don’t know what to pray anymore. I don’t know what to ask for that will make me feel that there was justice for what was done to me. Yet, God hears my groans and turns them into prayers. Prayers that say:

“God, I trust you. I trust that you hear me. I trust that you see me. I trust that you love every sinner, not just me.”

I am a sinner just like him. He has the right to forgiveness as much as I do. I have to be ok with this. If I’m honest, I don’t think I ever truly will be, but I can trust that the one who holds my future also holds that pain, he restores that hurt, and he is the only ultimate justifier.