Not Fair

As I walked to work after the memorial chapel for the freshman who passed away at Moody this past weekend, my brain chanted its reaction over and over

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair. This shouldn’t be. This isn’t right. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. It’s just not fair.”

I react this way to a lot of things. Not just to the fact that a family from Minnesota had to say goodbye to their youngest son this weekend, but also to the fact that hundreds of thousands of women and children are sold for sex every single day and Saturday Night Live had the nerve to produce a sketch trivializing that fact into humor. To the friend who had her heart broken after being SO SURE he was the one. To pastors who spiritually abuse their congregants. To the fact that women are asked if they brought rape upon themselves by dressing too provocatively.

These things aren’t fair. They’re not right. They shouldn’t be. Not one of those people deserves the circumstances they have found themselves in. The sheer unfair-ness of them weighs heavy on my heart and keeps me awake at night. I do not seek to trivialize them with this blog post, nor am I beginning to suggest that we should stop fighting against these injustices.

But as I thought about this, I realized something else that is not fair, not right, that shouldn’t be: The fact that I am here, redeemed, and alive. The fact that I deserve only death, but if I died today, I would instantly become more alive than I have ever been.

It’s not fair. It’s not right.

I can’t go one tiny minute without sinning. Sin is in my very being. It courses through my veins, alongside my blood. Every sin pushes me further and further from the God who created me solely to glorify Him; separates me from Him more and more.

Fair would be death. Right would be an eternity in hell.

It wouldn’t be God sending His only Child to die on my behalf. It certainly wouldn’t be “fair” for me to able to live in freedom, under grace, every single day, with the absolute assurance that I will spend eternity with my Savior.

I am redeemed. I am forgiven. Though my sins cover me in a deep crimson, my Savior’s blood has washed me whiter than snow (real snow; the kind we have in Michigan. None of this greyish-brown downtown Chicago sludge nonsense).

It’s not fair. It’s not right. It shouldn’t be. I have done nothing to deserve the freedom I find myself living in. The sheer unfairness of it all makes my heart sing and my spirit soar. It allows me to sleep at night.

The world is not fair.

But praise God, He is not always “fair” either.

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