Justice Isn't About Me

So yesterday I was driving home and I got off the 101 when I saw this woman holding a sign that said "Pregnant. Please help!" While I've come across signs like this before, this one was different. This woman was holding her face with her free hand as tears came streaming down her face. Through my thin car windows, I could hear the groan of her sadness and the reality of her situation made me reach for my wallet. Only I was too slow and the light was green and I'm praying, "Jesus, should I go back!? What should I do?" 

All I heard was, "Joel, this one isn't yours."

Out of all the times I've helped people and given my change, here was a woman whose tearful moaning still had my ears ringing and I was ready to do whatever it took, and all I hear, or what I think I hear is, "This one isn't yours, Joel." 

I was pissed! As I continued driving, I wanted to cry and was completely frustrated inside. 

That was when He spoke.

"Joel, my justice isn't about you."

But I was ready to sacrifice anything! Go anywhere! Do whatever it took to help this woman!

"It's not about you, Joel. It never was or will be..."

"My justice on the earth has nothing to do with you feeling good about yourself, but justice in her life is as much about you as it is about her. Justice, the kind of justice I'm looking for, is ultimately an issue of worship, Joel. My justice for you right now is to be obedient to me because your obedience—your worship by listening to me—is better than your sacrifice. This one isn't yours to tackle. This is where you trust me—an act of worship—that I'm big enough to take care of her and let justice come."

Of course, I was floored. Mad, but at the same time, taken aback at this revelation.

It's not about me. I wanted to help, but my help and action can't supersede listening to the King. If I were to have acted on my own in this situation and enacted my own sense of justice and my own sense of Joel's righteousness in the situation, then who knows what ramifications that would of had. Am I worried about the ramifications of me not helping her when I had the means to do so? Well, while something like this had never happened before, it doesn't change that Jesus quickly was teaching me to trust Him. To trust Him that me not acting doesn't mean I was inactive. I prayed for her the rest of the way home (and even wrestled with my own believes that we need to become the prayers we pray). But frankly, I would rather be pissed off at God for being obedient (because He can handle it), than to have missed this lesson all together because I just blindly acted on my compassion.

Hebrews 1:8
But about the Son he says, "Your throne, O God, will last for ever and ever, and righteousness will be the scepter of your kingdom.

If I enact my own sense of what I think justice is, then I play God. I put myself as the one holding the scepter of justice. But I don't hold the scepter—only the King does and we are all subject to him. I do believe this only applies to us who call Jesus our King. The Red Cross, Oxfam, FEMA, UNICEF—they will all call their own shots. But as people who "proclaim another King", I want to make sure I also never go to the frontlines on the battlefields of justice without knowing what my King is doing. 

It's about His justice, not mine. It's about His righteousness on the earth, not mine. And both those things mean that bringing His righteousness and justice ultimately comes down to worship of Jesus and not our own ideas, plans and the best-laid intentions. 

If the pursuit of justice ever becomes about our own glory, we might as well be making a golden calf from the gold found in our lofty, compassionate pursuits. True justice on the earth from the One who sees and knows all things and all scenarios, is never about me and never will be—it will always be about Him as long as I (we) let Him have His way.