Untangling Injustice: A Little Help For Frustration
News of ongoing racial injustice may have us wanting to pull our hair out in frustration. We can’t stand by and do nothing, not when God’s image-bearers are at stake.
I can’t untangle this mess of a world, and I’m not sure how to even try anymore.
It’s my first coherent thought of the day as I turn off my alarm and shuffle to the bathroom. The mirror reveals my crazy bed-head and dark circles of left-over mascara underneath my eyes. As my frustrations rush back in, I see the girl in the mirror scowl, the corners of her mouth drawn taut and downward in a grimace that reflects the tightening in my soul. “This whole stinkin’ world is just so…..aaauuugggh!” I say to no one in particular. There’s no one to hear. Trying to shake off the gloom, I reach for my hairbrush and begin to unwind the mess on top of my head.
Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash
I’ve had too many mornings like this in recent days. Maybe you have, too. A quick scan through our tweets, posts, and news feeds gives us more than enough reason. I shake my head over the righteous outrage over the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, the ugly reflection of racism staring our culture in the face, the caustic conversations as we unpack all that should and should not have happened. I hear the cries of rage and frustration from all corners. These aren’t the only wrongs in our world by a long shot, of course. And they don’t invalidate other wrongs of chauvinism, discrimination of all sorts, oppression, and inequality across the board. The collective mounting frustration sits like lead in our guts, weighing us down, fogging our minds, clogging our emotional digestion into a distended and painful bloat until we’re ready to just burst and die.
What on earth do we do with this mess?
LAMENT
I have no solutions short of Jesus Christ Himself coming and hitting the Big Reset Button (yes, please, Lord!). When it comes to racial injustice, God gives us Latasha Morrison of Be the Bridge, Carlos Whittaker, and many others with far more insight than me. I hope we’ll listen to what they have to say. And I think that’s where we should start, even if we encounter these injustices from the blessing of a little distance. My skin is white as the driven snow so I can’t say I’ve experienced much in the way racial discrimination first-hand. When I’m not directly involved, it’s hard to know what to do or say. I could be welcomed as an ally for the oppressed, or I could come off as arrogant, swooping in like a “White Savior.” So I suggest a better starting point.
“Before we determine our opinions, point fingers of blame, seek retribution, or just swallow it all down, we must cry out the tears that cloud our vision.”
Lament.
Mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15).
First.
I actually hate that. I would much rather DO something to make the pain go away. And if I can’t really DO anything, I’m tempted to explain it away instead, build up as much distance as possible. But grief must have her day or else she’ll shatter us to pieces as she works her way out sideways. And I remember that we have an entire book called Lamentations and that the book of Psalms, the worship hymnal of God’s people, drips with tears of loss and cries of injustice. We’ve got 42 songs of lament in God’s psalter.
Before we determine our opinions, point fingers of blame, seek retribution, or just swallow it all down, we must cry out the tears that cloud our vision.
IMAGE-BEARERS
I believe and constantly remind myself that you and I have inherent value because we bear God’s image (Genesis 1:26-27). It God’s design for us as humans, to reflect Him to others and show off Who He Is. And He’s got more facets than you and I can dream. I’ve heard it said that it takes all people of all cultures and all time to even approximate a full reflection of God’s image. All races. All classes of all societies. All of history. We each have a unique and precious reflection of God that we alone can show this broken world. As we interact, the more different we are from each other, the better we understand how big and magnificent our God really is. If I only see God’s image reflected through middle-class white women in Texas, for example, I’ll have a tiny and distorted view. But when my circle includes women and men with darker skin, from different parts of the world, with more or less education, living in different economic strata, all that stuff, then I’ll see God with a far broader, beautiful, and more complete view. Even if my interactions make me squirm with discomfort, my opportunity to know God better grows as I live and love in a more diverse crowd.
Photo by Serrah Galos on Unsplash
Injustice mangles God’s image-bearers and undervalues what each real live breathing human offers to the world. I go batty pulling out my tangled hair over how many wrongs we could set right if we truly valued God’s reflection in each person’s life. The ultimate call for every one of us is to know Him, and one way He reveals Himself is through one other. This cause ranks so high on God’s priority list that He sends His Son to be born as an image-bearer like us, show us how it's done, and then take our place for all our failures. (see John 1:14 and 18, and Hebrews 1:1-3 for starters)
Here’s the kicker: it’s not just victims who reflect God’s image in our world. So do the perpetrators. When I feel the cry of “UNJUST!!!” rising in my throat, I’m learning to look for the image of God in everyone involved and to weep and mourn for His distorted reflection, too. I ‘m learning to mourn even for those I suspect might be evil. Twisted as they may be, they are still God’s image-bearers. In them, I look for what God’s shows us through contrast, what He has to say when the innocent suffer. The shadow proves the sunshine. (Thank you for the song, Switchfoot)
Getting practical, I’m learning to focus on what’s lost when one of God’s image-bearers is marred, broken, or snuffed out. Then I name that injustice alongside all of the other “that-should-never-happens.” That’s where I have hope of finding common ground and moving forward. Because you and I can debate a set of circumstances from every which angle and never agree on what’s right or whose set of facts is truly relevant. I’m exhausted by debates of “what really happened.” I can’t get through an argument with my husband that way, let alone wade through something as important and complex as racial justice in my society.
But we can agree that we each bear God’s image as human beings. And when we lose that, something has gone terribly wrong.
We should mourn each and every time it happens no matter what.
And then, we take a deep breath, gather whatever strength we have, and do something about it.
SOMETHING TO OFFER
Because we’re made in God’s image, we all have something to offer to right the wrongs of our world. Yes, all of us, though in different ways and with different spheres of influence. Let’s look at the folks in the book of Ruth, for example. We meet Naomi first, an older woman who lives in a patriarchal culture. Her society relegates her to the company of male relationships, of spouse and children, and she depends on them for protection and practical daily bread. And then, in a great injustice wrought by the world’s brokenness, she loses her home to famine, then her husband and both sons to early graves. Widowed, childless, and with few economic opportunities beyond begging or prostitution, she’s oh-so-vulnerable. What little she has can easily be wrested from her by the opportunists, the powerful, or the unscrupulous. She can shout her cries of injustice from the rooftops, but few would ever listen. She doesn’t even have legal standing in the courts because she’s a woman. She’s as weak as weak gets in her culture. Yet she remains God’s image-bearer, a reflection of Who He Is. Though her world says she’s of little value and strength, God says she still has something to show us that’s worthy of our sacred Scriptures.
Contrast Naomi with the mighty Boaz, the man of standing and valor who is everything she is not. As a man, he has automatic cultural advantages, plus he’s blessed with wealth and influence. He stands as Naomi’s polar opposite, the one with obvious strength who can speak up for the wrongs of the world. So we’re thrilled when he moves into action on Naomi’s behalf, doing his part to rescue and restore his widowed relative, perhaps literally saving Naomi’s life.
But the strength on center stage in the book of Ruth comes from Ruth herself. Another childless widow and Naomi’s daughter-in-law, Ruth has the added disadvantage of being born among Israel’s enemies in Moab. You and I can probably imagine the discrimination she might have faced as a foreigner, an “other.” But Ruth doesn’t accept that as a woman (strike one), a widow (strike two), and an outsider (strike three), she’s out and done. She uses her muscles to glean in Bethlehem’s fields and find food for Naomi. She uses her voice to boldly ask for what she needs, opening Boaz’s eyes to Naomi’s plight and inviting him to share God’s heart for widows, foreigners, and the poor. One act inspires another until we see all three image-bearers using their God-given strength however they can. The book of Ruth ends with a scene of blessing, restoration, and the promise of coming King.
“Making a difference isn’t our job - it’s God’s job. He’s the only One who can untangle this mess and clean up this disaster of brokenness that makes us sick to our stomachs. He asks us to bring to Him the pitiful little we’ve got and let Him do His thing. ”
So while Boaz is the obvious person to right Naomi’s wrongs, the voices we hear loudest come from those frailest and most vulnerable. God reveals Himself through two widowed women, one of them a foreigner, outcast by their culture, with seemingly little to offer. Yet, when Ruth reflects God’s image— when she demonstrates His active love, kindness, loyalty, and sacrifice— God inspires Boaz to reflect His image as a Redeemer. Through Ruth and Boaz, God saves Naomi and then goes on to bring the One who will save the world (Matthew 1:1-17). In other words, when even those least suited to the task offer what little they have, God multiplies it like so many loaves and fishes with more than enough for everyone (Matthew 14:13-21).
Think about it. Even if you and I don’t have a whole lot to bring to the table, don’t have authority, don’t have the gifts or skills we think we need, don’t have words of wisdom, we bring what little we have anyway. Who knows what God might do with even our tiniest efforts?
We won’t know if we don’t try.
This means when we see injustice, we don’t ignore it. Ever. When wrong rears it’s ugly head in small or big ways, we reflect God’s light as brightly as we can in that dark place. God is a Just God, and as His image-bearers, we show our world Who He is by using whatever strength we have on behalf of others who also bear His image. Even if we can’t imagine how we can really make a difference.
Making a difference isn’t our job - it’s God’s job. He’s the only One who can untangle this mess and clean up this disaster of brokenness that makes us sick to our stomachs. He asks us to bring to Him the pitiful little we’ve got and let Him do His thing. Outcomes are not up to us, just as Naomi’s salvation wasn’t up to Ruth alone or Boaz alone. It was when Ruth and Boaz teamed up their collective strength for Naomi’s sake that God blessed the whole thing up.
What can God do through even our tiniest efforts on behalf of those who bear His image?
Anything.
THE DANGER OF LEAVING IT ALONE
Back in my morning routine, I drag my hairbrush through the tangled mat on the back of my head, my reflection wincing with each painful tug. Pulling through the knot hurts. Easier to just let it be, except passivity has consequences of its own. Uncombed hair is frowned upon in our society, and I’ve got on-line video events today. Who can listen to anything I say when I’ve got a bird’s nest on my head? How distracting. And if I can’t be bothered to straighten out my own stuff, how can anyone trust me to help bring order to their tangled world?
That’s the danger of our silence, our reluctance to engage in the painful process of lament and the hard work of calling out injustice. When we sigh into the reflection and then walk away, we show the world an unruly mess, undermining our credibility as God’s reflections and followers of Jesus. We can’t just leave it alone or wait for others with bigger and better hairbrushes.
Does that mean we spend all our time wailing over every flaw we see? No, that’s the other extreme to avoid. We can neither ignore the tangle nor stare introspectively at our own reflections until we achieve perfection. It won’t happen. We do the best we can with what we can and then get about using the strength God gives us.
Some of us are called to this untangling kind of work full time, and we should support and applaud them. Those of us who aren’t? Well, we can’t get in each other’s way or waste time and energy lobbing pot-shots at each other for each hair out of place. Instead, we bind up each other’s wounds, cheer each other on, jump for joy, cry and weep and wail and mourn like folks who love each other. We are all supposed to be brothers and sisters in God’s family after all.
And when we see the tangles in our own personal mirrors, or if someone points them out to us, we get out our hairbrushes and deal with it.
THE BOTTOM LINE
All of this sounds fine and good, but when the frown tightens on our faces, the weight settles in our stomachs, and the cries of frustration strangle our throats, what do we actually do? Here’s my plan:
Cry the tears. Let the guttural groans out in the open, and give voice to the lament our hearts demand and the situation deserves.
Pray. Talk to God and listen for what He has to say. Hear His heart for the world, for us as individuals, for everyone involved.
Listen to those who feel the pain of injustice. Hear as many voices as possible, both those who are injured and those who did the injuring. Listen to understand and discern what God says above all the other voices.
As we have strength, offer it. Defend the oppressed. Call out injustice at the moment it shows up. Even if it’s risky. Even if you don’t think it will have any effect. Do it anyway.
If someone points out an injustice we’ve participated in (intentional or not), don’t dismiss them lightly. They might be wrong, we hope they’re wrong, but they might be right. I’d rather know if my hair sticks out the side of my head before others see me. And if I’ve got racist tendencies or unjust assumptions lurking in my head, I’d rather know about them than not. How about you? Are you willing to let God use others to show you what you look like, even if you don’t like what you see? Gulp…that’s a scary one.
Stay laser-focused on God. We’re not fighting against flesh and blood here (Ephesians 6:12), and that’s hard to remember in the heat of a given moment. We don’t sacrifice ourselves to some disembodied cause or ideology, no matter how noble. We offer our strength as a living sacrifice to God alone (Romans 12:1). Our goal (and one that we will not attain on this side of heaven but we aim for anyway) is to individually and collectively reflect God’s image as accurately as we can. That’s worth fighting for, but not at the cost of cutting other image-bearers to pieces.
Y’all. I’m not good at ANY of this. As I wrestle my own frustrations and moan over the ongoing injustices of the world, I’m way too tempted to stay in my pj’s and never brush my hair. I can avoid mirrors with the best of them and pretend tangles don’t exist ‘cause I don’t feel them and I don’t see them and I don’t care what you see because your opinion doesn’t matter and I answer only to God and all that. This is hard. And it will take hard work, perseverance, stubbornness, and Ruth’s kind of stick-to-it-ive-ness and devotion to see it through. I don’t have it even on my best days.
But I can offer the little I do have. And when I put that into His hands, He can do anything.
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