It’s taken eighteen days, but I have finally met the character I most identify with in all of Luke. Perhaps at other times it would be someone different, but today it is definitely the persistent widow who couldn’t get any justice.
Yes, that speaks to me right now. I have lately met with staggering selfishness and disregard of my rights, and having failed to be heard by the perpetrators, I have been forced to appeal to authority in order to persuade them to behave like . . . well, adults.
Authority in many cases is just like the judge in this parable: they don’t want to get involved, they don’t really see why they should, but if you wear away at them, sooner or later, someone has to hear you. It isn’t really about right and wrong – it’s simply that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Even ungodly rulers, like the judge in Luke 18, will sometimes dispense justice, even if it is simply to silence a persistent widow.
Widows feel especially vulnerable. Yes, even ones like me. You’ve lost your helpmeet, your partner in life and it’s difficult not to feel alone when hard pressed by either circumstances or by people. As I have said before, it’s a status that draws more kindness from those who are kind, but cruelty and exploitation from those who are not.
The point of this parable is to show how much more we can expect from God who IS justice than even the cold assistance of the courts. It would be contrary to his nature to act unjustly. We, in our sinful brokenness, struggle to comprehend this – and so Jesus explains it in terms we can understand. If even fallible and godless rulers can offer justice, imagine how much more you will receive from God.
Discussing my situation with a friend this week, he asked if I ever question God’s motives in permitting these situations. Yes, of course I do – I meditate on that very thing often. And there is one conclusion I’ve come to. I believe that in our trials God may well be reminding us of our privilege in belonging to him:
‘He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever’.
The justice of this world is like the peace or the joy of the world: transient and fractured at best. If you are a disciple of Christ, though, and experiencing painful trial, aren’t you resting on his justice? And, if you are – as we all should be – he knows he’s got you, and that you will not, ultimately, be put to shame.
That being the case, then, perhaps Christians sometimes need to shift their perspective a little. God knows you will not ultimately be put to shame; he will not permit that. In the midst of battle, so equipped, then, isn’t it just possible that you are not the one who is being tested?