Moldova Taught Me the Justice of God

My friend leaned into my ear and said, "Do you see the woman standing in the back over there?" We were standing in the tiny village of Suhat, Moldova, surrounded by kids nervously waiting for some new shoes, a bit of soap. I glanced over and instantly knew who he was referring to and why. I had not seen a shiner like that since I had jumped from a chair and elbowed my eight-year-old brother straight in the eye (he deserved it). The woman's lip was busted up too. "It looks really fresh" my friend said. "I'm sure her husband did it."

I am not one usually to wish vengeance upon strangers. That day I did. I quickly thought about ways my friends and I could dispatch the a-hole who thought it a good idea to make a punching bag out of his wife. He was probably drunk when he did it, and probably drunk because he was desperately sad, not being able to provide much for his kids and all. That didn't much matter to me as she tried her best to hide her face from those around her. When I had come up with a relatively good plan to make the guy pay, my eyes were drawn to the other moms. How many of these moms had taken the back of a calloused hand for no good reason or gotten kicked in the kidneys to protect their kids? My plan was not encompassing enough. How would I take all the husbands out? I quickly envisioned myself Rambo with a large, menacing weapon and bulging, sweating muscles. It would take a lot more than I realized.

Suhat is a town long since forgotten, not on any map that I saw. The nearest village shares none of its resources they get from the government and their mayor consistently denies Suhat's existence. Food is so scarce there that meals are far from daily. The kids are dressed up in anything and everything to keep warm. One young girl I saw (an orphan) was dressed in a Playboy t-shirt. Though the rain, snow and brutally muddy roads would come soon, most of the people there would have only sandals to keep the cold from their feet. My plan was worthless. These people would get no justice that day or any day. I was far too small to do anything useful.

And so I must believe that God will have the final say. He must be just. If he is not, then there is no God or, worse, he is not much of a God at all. The scriptures affirm, though, that he is righteous--he must right all the wrongs. "Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord,'" (Romans 12:19). Though he has shown mercy for a time, his patience will not endure forever. Jesus Christ himself will soon return with a tattoo emblazoned on his leg and a sword tearing out from his mouth (Revelation 19:11-16). He's not coming to make nice.

Suhat exposed me for who I really am: A flaccid sinner clinging desperately to a righteous savior. I am worthless to provide justice. But it is he who hands out soap and it is he who will dispense furious fists.