Be Moved :: Because of Justice

7 cookies + 1 twelve-year-old me + 1 eight-year-old brother = 1 big dilemma. Dad said we could split the cookies. You can bet good money that neither of us were going to accept a 4/3 split. It took us fifteen minutes, a scalpel and a postal scale to equitably halve that extra cookie.

Whenever we went somewhere with only one parent, the family rule was that the oldest kid in the car had dibs on the front seat. Being the fourth of five kids, I rarely ever got the front seat.

When my older siblings moved out (finally!) and I became the eldest, I held onto that front seat with an iron grip. My little brother never sat up front with me in the car. I had paid my dues, and that seat was my birthright.

My older siblings often complained Mom and Dad had grown soft. Apparently, we got away with stuff that they didn’t … and they reminded us of that often.

By the time I got into high school, I hadn’t really created too much drama. Unlike my younger brother, my parents never had to pick me up at the mall security office or meet with my school’s assistant principal. Consequently, my parents afforded me a great deal of freedom. My brother, on the other hand, faced far more scrutiny than I did because the potential for shenanigans was much higher with him.

In each of the above scenarios, you can see a child-centric perspective on fairness. You could also call it an incomplete or immature perspective on fairness.

Cookies? It’s not fair for one to get more than the other. The front seat? It’s not fair to upset the natural succession of birth order. Changing standards? It’s not fair that the older kids had a stricter upbringing. Increased trust? I earned that privilege by making good choices.

An immature perspective of justice is not just for kids. Tweak these circumstances a little bit, and you can provoke anyone into bellowing “IT’S NOT FAIR!”

The problem is that something is missing. Perhaps I don’t have all the facts. Perhaps I lack the ability to comprehend the significance of the facts. Perhaps I rush to judgment because my feelings are hurt. The perception of being wronged can be quite strong and easily triggered, but it is often incorrect.

Unfortunately, warped justice can influence how we practice mercy. When we feel like we’ve been unfairly treated, it is harder to seek justice for others. I need to “get mine” before someone else “gets theirs.”

Let’s look at three broad avenues one might take to become a needy person. How might we respond to each of these?

First, we have people who become needy because they did something stupid. Perhaps they’re financially strapped because they sent money to a Nigerian prince. Perhaps they’re injured because they were trying to “go viral” making a crazy stunt video.

When someone is responsible for their own neediness, it is easy to think “well, it’s their own dumb fault.” The typical response is to offer little or nothing in the way of assistance.

Second, we have situations where people become needy, but nobody did anything wrong. Perhaps a storm knocks a tree onto their car, or faulty wiring causes a fire, or someone contracts a rare disease.

These kinds of needs can make people feel sadness or pity, and perhaps even a little guilt or relief (as in “I’m glad that’s not me.”) A community can rally around these needs, at least for a short while. People might donate cash, cook a meal or share a heartfelt comment on social media. Many times, we act to the extent that will make us feel a little better. We want to be able to say “I gave something. I did my part.”

Third, there are horrific situations where someone is directly responsible for causing gross injustice. I’m talking about deliberate, malicious behavior that causes suffering: child neglect, domestic abuse, mass shootings and many other forms of senseless wrong.

In response, we can become incredibly angry, which can prompt us to do something. It’s good to want to act, but sometimes are actions are poorly conceived.

With haste, there is a risk of pushing the need aside and making the situation worse. As urgent as it may feel that we do something, it is even more imperative to ensure that what we do is helpful.

Our actions must be focused correctly. When our target is the perpetrator (“I’ll make him pay!”) rather than the victim, then the victim’s suffering remains unresolved. While it is true that justice includes retribution, mercy is about restoration. Vengeance is a topic for a different day.

Keep in mind that, for now, we are discussing why. I am intentionally avoiding anything beyond the why because we’ll come back to many of these issues later.

That’s the question: why should we help others?

Do you recall tsedâqâh? The concepts of justice and righteousness are so intricately connected that they are inseparable. Justice is rightness.

Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, Your faithfulness to the skies. Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, Your justice like the great deep … How priceless is Your unfailing love … Continue Your love to those who know You, Your righteousness to the upright in heart. ~ Psalm 36:5‑10

Sow righteousness for yourselves, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed  ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until He comes and showers His righteousness on you.  ~ Hosea 10:12

Do you know what all types of need (regardless of cause) have in common?

They’re all needs. Something went wrong. A solution is needed. Someone needs to champion right.

We, the people of God, have been called to the ministry of repair, reconciliation, restoration and righting. It’s our job. It’s our job.

Why do we help others?

Because it’s the right thing to do.

Open Hands, pages 63-66