I’ve been studying the book of Romans with some friends,
which has brought to mind the word “justify” and its various definitions. Theologically,
the word means to be declared righteous before God. The mnemonic device I
learned growing up was that being justified made it “just as if I” never sinned.
I remember once looking at the keyboard on a digital typewriter (in
pre-computer days) and seeing the “right justify” key, which would line up the
text with the margin of the page. It struck me that what Jesus did for me was
similar. My own righteousness couldn’t reach God’s standard, like unjustified
text couldn’t reach the margin. I realized that Jesus was my “justify” key and that
he could take what I offered him and fill in the gaps, so to speak, to make it
line up with the standard of holiness I could never reach on my own. It’s not a
perfect analogy, but it helped me appreciate being justified.
Ironically, the common usage of the word “justify” is almost
the opposite of the theological one. Theologically speaking, justification
starts with the truth that no one is fully righteous. In everyday usage,
however, being justified involves a person being unjustly accused or doubted,
then being shown to be in the right.
I find I need both kinds of justification. I’m certainly a
sinner in need of great grace. I also find, however, that in specific
situations, I long for someone to step in and defend me. In my last post, I
asked God to vindicate me, which is a similar concept. Someone asked what I meant
and I had trouble articulating it well. This is my attempt at a fuller answer.
I've learned that I feel beaten down, not only by things
that people say directly to me, but things that people say about others with whom
I identify. I suspect that we all have this tendency to some extent, but maybe
some of us are more sensitive to it than others. Take, for example, what people
say about other widows. Recently, within the span of a few days, I
heard two different people make offhanded comments about widows they knew. The
first commented that one seemed to be having a hard time. (Note to self – don’t
share with anyone when you’re grieving). The second person commented that she was
afraid another widow was too stoic and not allowing herself to mourn. (Note to
self – make sure to share with everyone when you’re grieving.)
A few days after I heard those comments I ran across a blog post
by a widow defending a widower who had recently announced his engagement. (Don’t
read it if it will bother you that the post contains both a Bible verse and the
phrase “dear ignorant, judgmental a**holes.”)
The writer’s palpable anger, which was echoed in hundreds and hundreds
of comments, reinforced the truth that when you attack one of us in this
widowhood club, it feels like an attack on all of us.
The chronic illness club is another one I find myself a
member of, and negative judgments about people who are ill pour down like rain.
The list of accusations feels almost endless: people have made themselves sick,
they remain sick because they are afraid or don’t really want to get well, they
use their illnesses to manipulate people, they exaggerate their symptoms, they
aren’t trying hard enough to heal, they aren’t smart enough to know the right
treatments, and on and on it goes. In the Christian world other messages get
piled on: they aren’t praying enough, they don’t have enough faith, they’re being
punished for sin, they’ve let Satan gain a foothold in their life. There are
also accusations that are specific to given conditions. People with chemical
sensitivities are often freely ridiculed and maligned for things like wearing
masks to protect themselves or asking for accommodations. Yesterday I read an
article that used the word “tyrants” when referring to us.
I feel very grateful to live in the digital age, when information
and connection is so easy to access. There’s some information, however, that I’m
not sure I want to know. Blog and social media posts, along with their associated
comments, pull back the curtain of denial and paint a stark and depressing
picture of how judgmental and accusatory we all tend to be. I’m not saying
anything new when I note how easy it is to type things online we would never
say to someone’s face or in the physical presence of bystanders who might
be sensitive to the message. I read things every day that make me sad and
angry, and I don’t know what to do with those emotions. Sometimes people do say
accusatory things directly to me, which is painful, but at least gives me the
option of response. But what do I do with the anger I feel at the accusations
of countless unnamed fellow humans who all seem to have an opinion about
widows, women, those with low incomes, Christians, people over 50 and the
chronically ill?
It’s easy to say that it doesn’t matter what other people
think. There’s certainly some truth in that. At the end of the day, only God’s
opinion really counts. But caring what people think also serves a certain
purpose in society, helping people understand norms and promoting cohesion. It’s
a natural human behavior. Biblical writers, especially psalmists, asked for
vindication or justification frequently. Here are a few examples, taken from a
variety of translations:
Psalm 7:8b – “Declare me righteous, O LORD, for I am innocent, O Most
High!”
Psalm 26:1 – “Vindicate me, O LORD, for I have walked in my integrity,
and I have trusted in the LORD without wavering.”
Psalm 35:24 – “Declare me not guilty, O LORD my God, for you give
justice. Don't let my enemies laugh about me in my troubles.”
Psalm 43:1 – “Declare me innocent, O God! Defend me against these
ungodly people. Rescue me from these unjust liars.”
Psalm 82:3b – “Vindicate the oppressed and suffering.” (Another
translation says “Justify the poor and the meek.”)
I believe that my anger is justified (there’s that word
again), but it doesn’t feel especially helpful. As I work through this issue
and try to process my feelings, I’ve found solace not only in realizing that
Biblical writers shared the same desire to be defended from unfair judgments,
but that God promises to do just that. This is my hope:
Isaiah
50:7-9a – Because the Sovereign Lord helps
me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore, I have set my face like a stone, determined
to do his will. And I know that I will not be put to shame. He who gives me
justice is near. Who will dare to bring charges against me now? Where are my
accusers? Let them appear! See, the Sovereign Lord is on my
side! Who will declare me guilty?
