Category Archives: justice

Are We There Yet?

Posted on by
Reply

Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and said, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?” – 2 Samuel 7:18 (NRSV)

The #BlackLivesMatter movement is more than six years old. The #MeToo movement is more than thirteen years old. Civil rights and liberation movements around the world are generations old—as old as our love of power and control.

When will justice prevail?

In my pregnancies (many years ago) that resulted in the births of my two children, the final trimesters always seemed the slowest. I thought I couldn’t possibly get any bigger, that each day would surely be “the day,” that the new life inside me was long overdue.

When would the waiting end?

Last year, a new shopping development in my neighborhood dragged weeks, and then months, behind schedule. Piles of dirt and skeletons of I-beams languished while awaiting the vision of a bustling community.

Must delays in construction be inevitable?

King David believed that the work of building God’s house was overdue and that he was the one to undertake such a noble project. God’s reply? “Why do you assume that I’m discontent where I am? Who are you to say that my presence in the world is not yet enough?”

God was already where God intended to be. God’s promised presence was already fulfilled. What David believed needed to be started, pursued, labored over, and completed for God’s sake was already ongoing.

God was already there, bringing David along the way.

We still have so far to go, O God. The work of justice seems eternal, the wait for new life seems long, the aspirations we undertake in your name seem to be forever incomplete. We might never reach the end of it all—but God, please promise that our progress isn’t a measure of your arrival.

written for the Daily Devotional

Send Word

Posted on by
Reply

Tell the stars to send word, O Creator,
of your faithfulness to every generation,
of your trustworthiness through the long night of injustice.

Tell the children to send word, O Love,
of your accompaniment in places of exile,
of your blessed increase even in the presence of enemies.

Tell the prophets to send word, O Hope,
of your oasis in the desert named oppression,
of your refuge when our homes are not safe from violence.

Tell the Jordan River to send word, O Peace,
of your healing no matter how shallow the waters,
of your sweet relief when our tears overflow like a storm.

Tell the silver to send word, O Fire,
of your grace through fierce judgment,
of your pure beauty that gleams in the midst of trial.

Tell the foreigner to send word, O Mercy,
of your welcome that continuously disrupts exclusion,
of your fearsome freedom for the sake of life and redemption.

Send word, O God,
by wind or horse or messenger,
and we will give thanks for ever and ever.

on today’s Revised Common Lectionary texts,
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals

Fire and Brimstone

Posted on by
Reply

On the wicked, God will rain coals of fire and sulfur; a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup. For the LORD is righteous. (Psalm 11:6-7, NRSV)

Is God still righteous if the wicked thrive?

Maybe you’ve noticed that there are children weeping in the streets because their parents have been taken from them–by immigration officials, by gun violence, by war.

Maybe you’ve noticed that there are people raging around the world because the systems that should support their lives have undermined them: governments spend money more readily on teargas than on education, corporations prioritize profit over community, religions love orthodoxy more than understanding.

Maybe you’ve noticed your own spirit, listless and wondering “How long?”: how long will hearts bleed, how long will discouragement weigh down souls, how long until hope is realized.

But still wars are waged and walls are built. Still wealth inequality skyrockets and gun sales surge.

Fire and brimstone aren’t raining down to engulf AK-47s.

Coals are not being stoked by the breath of God to incinerate white nationalism.

Is God still righteous?

One of the most essential classes of my seminary years focused on the problem of theodicy–the question of whether God can be good when evil still exists. Our class texts were the novels of Toni Morrison. The answers to theodicy that we found in Morrison’s novels, if they could be called answers, were complicated and sometimes discouraging. Perhaps God’s righteousness can’t be defended in the face of evil. Perhaps God’s goodness can only be found in part and in fleeting moments.

But finding answers wasn’t really the point. The point was to do the work of seeking them: to gaze honestly at trauma and evil, to look hard for hope, and to dig deep for love and life.

I don’t know if God is still good. I suspect God’s righteousness is tarnished, at the very least. But we’re called to keep searching for it–and searching for one another–through the fire and brimstone.

Sweet Jesus, the world is a mess. The wicked thrive, and violence multiplies. Find within us what we long to find within you: goodness, mercy, and love.

Written for the UCC Daily Devotional

Interrupting Power

Posted on by
1

“When King Ahasuerus was merry with wine, he commanded Queen Vashti to appear before him, in order to show the peoples and the officials her beauty—for she was fair to behold. But Queen Vashti refused.” – Esther 1:10-12

During the 180 days of King Ahasuerus’ big bash, Queen Vashti was throwing her own party. While he wined and dined the officials, ministers, governors, generals, and nobles of the Persian Empire—from India to Ethiopia—Queen Vashti hosted a banquet for their wives, mistresses, baronesses, countesses, and noble women.

For 180 days, the international assembly of women ate and drank, rested and played, and politicked. In the midst of it all, Queen Vashti was the gracious diplomat … until the king interrupted with a command: “Stop what you’re doing, and come look pretty for these drunk men.”

An interruption of her work.

A reduction of her diplomatic authority.

A power play against her bodily autonomy.

This is what power is. This is what power does. It interrupts and asserts its own agenda. “Come entertain us. Come work to make our lives easier. Stay quiet so we won’t feel challenged. Comply with our expectations so we can show you off.”

Queen Vashti assessed the king’s interruption, his power, and used her own: “No.”

It was an interruption like a scream made public 35 years after it was stifled.

Power is interruption: Violence interrupting life. Protest interrupting injustice. Silence interrupting healing. Hashtags interrupting lies. We all interrupt and are interrupted, with assorted and rarely pure agendas, although not with equal systemic power and impact.

But one Power interrupts us all. The holy and eternal Interrupter persists in disruption: asserting breath in the midst of chaos, interjecting promise in the midst of floods, providing welcome in the midst of hostility, interrupting injustice for the cause of life.

God grant me the wisdom to recognize my power and to interrupt for the sake of your reign.

written for the Stillspeaking Daily Devotional

 

Fourfold

Posted on by
Reply

David’s anger erupted when he heard the tale, “As the LORD lives,” he swore to Nathan, “the rich man who took his poor neighbor’s only lamb should die; he must restore the lamb fourfold because of what he did.” (2 Samuel 12:5-6)

David sinned against Uriah,
and Bathsheba suffered —
the assault on her body, the
humiliation of their marriage,
the death of a child. Tell me, O Just One:
when will Bathsheba’s loss be restored fourfold?

People sin against one another,
and those at the borders suffer —
the strain of codeswitching to navigate
safe passage, the walls of spirit and nation
that insult wayfarers and refugees, the death
of separation and criminalization. Tell me, O Just One,
when will the border-crossers and the marginalized be restored fourfold?

Fourfold — not forgiveness.
Fourfold — not fragile tears.
Fourfold — not false apologies.
Fourfold — not food that perishes.
Fourfold — not gaslighting reversals.

Fourfold.

Where, O Just One,
is the brick to rebuild the bulldozed home,
the insurance to sustain healing after trauma,
the sacrificed wealth to invest in polluted communities?
Where, O Just One,
is the king who surrenders his throne,
the rich man who gives up his bank account,
the suburb that gives up its segregated school district?

Must those who have been harmed
by the sin and selfishness of others
be content to beg heaven for manna?

Fourfold, O Just One.
Even David in his sin measured justice to be fourfold.
Will you bring about any less?

a prayer on this Sunday’s RCL texts;
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals